Part of the Family
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Joe dates Marie, the daughter of a mofia boss, while he and Frank investigate a mystery at a museum. But what will happen when the number one suspect turns out to be Marie's father?
1. Chapter One

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter One  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy rapped sharply on the door of his girlfriend's at precisely seven p.m. They had been dating since her arrival in Bayport and tonight marked the six-month anniversary of their first date.  
  
Joe's blue eyes looked around the porch as he waited and his smile faltered a bit. The porch swing had been taken down and sat against the wall; the chains in coils on the seat. The two flowerpots, which normally sat on the banister, had completely disappeared from view.  
  
He lifted his hand to knock again but the door opened and Andrea Bender, his girlfriend's mother, stood there looking a bit frazzled.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Joe asked at once, his blue eyes worried and his voice filled with concern. Had something happened to Vanessa?  
  
  
  
"No, everything's fine," Andrea quickly assured the blond headed athletic youth who stood four inches taller than her own five foot eight. "Vanessa's fine," she added, seeing his hesitant look. "A bit upset, but that's to be expected."  
  
"Huh?" Joe asked, completely baffled.  
  
"Didn't Vanessa call you this afternoon?" Andrea asked, her own expression turning curious.  
  
"Frank and I just got back into town about an hour ago," Joe replied with a shake of his head. "We were helping dad on a case in Bridgeport." Joe, and his year older brother, Frank, were following in the footsteps of their world famous father, a private investigator named Fenton Hardy.  
  
"You had better come in and sit down," Andrea told him, opening the door all the way so he could enter.  
  
Joe stepped over the threshold and into the living room. His stomach turned to lead as he saw the jungle of cardboard scattered before him. "You're moving?" he rasped then swallowed to rid himself of the lump, which had just lodged in his throat. No need to get excited, he berated himself. They are probably just moving closer to town. Or the city. New York isn't that far from Bayport.   
  
"Mr. Yomoto called me this morning," Andrea told him as a door from upstairs was heard to open. "He offered me a position as vice-president of his anime studio," she explained in a gentle voice. "The offer was too good to pass up."  
  
"You're moving to Japan?" Joe croaked in disbelief. He knew Andrea had met Mr. Yomoto when she and her daughter, Vanessa, had gone to Japan for an anime convention. Vanessa had told him her mother been taken not only by Mr. Yomoto's studio but also by Mr. Yomoto who had given them a personal tour.  
  
Before Andrea could answer, a leggy blond with sad gray eyes raced down the stairs and threw her arms around Joe. Joe lifted his arms to hold her as Vanessa buried her face into his shoulder.  
  
"Why don't you two go outside for a bit?" Andrea suggested. Joe nodded and led Vanessa through the front door.  
  
"When are you leaving?" Joe asked as he and Vanessa sat down on the steps of the porch.  
  
"In the morning," Vanessa replied softly. "Mr. Yomoto suggested we let him handle the moving and the sale of the house. He has someone from his office on his or her way in Mr. Yomoto's private jet. We'll be flying back on it."  
  
Joe pulled Vanessa close and the two sat quietly as the bullfrogs began to croak loudly from their position near the river. Crickets chirped; and a rabbit scampered in front of the couple making its way from the far side of the van to the bushes along the side of the house before Vanessa pulled away and looked up into Joe's eyes. "I...I guess this is it," she whispered, her voice sad as she reached for the chain around her neck which held Joe's high school ring.  
  
"Keep it," Joe said softly, stilling her hands and kissing her briefly but tenderly. "To remember me by," he added, giving her a sad smile.  
  
"As if I could forget," she whispered, fresh tears appearing at the corners of her eyes. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."  
  
"The feeling is mutual," Joe returned. "You made me feel alive...whole again. I love..." he began.  
  
"Don't," she begged, placing a finger against his lips to silence him.  
  
Joe closed his eyes and nodded. "Write me?" he asked.  
  
"Every day," Vanessa promised at once.  
  
Joe gave a quiet little laugh and shook his head. "I won't hold you to that," he said. "Japan's a long way away," he continued as he saw how crushed she looked. "And we are both young. I do love you very, very much but I know we both still have some growing t do. Emotionally if nothing else," he amended with a smile. "We can't let what we have...had...keep us from living...and loving." He paused as he looked deep into her eyes. "You taught me that."  
  
Vanessa nodded then pulled Joe close for a long, final, kiss before standing up. Joe stood as she began speaking. "I will write," she told him. "At least once a month."  
  
"And I'll answer," Joe promised.  
  
"You better!" she ordered, playing with the lapel of his shirt. "Or I'll have to call out the National Guard to hunt you down."  
  
Joe looked behind Vanessa as the door opened and Andrea stood illuminated in the light. "Can I help?" he asked.  
  
"No," Vanessa answered, touching his cheek. "Mom only wanted to pack the breakable stuff and what we're going to need until our things get there," she explained.  
  
Joe glanced over at the swing. "Mom gave the flowers to one of our neighbors and she asked if she could have the swing too," Vanessa explained.   
  
Joe gave Vanessa a big hug. "Take care of yourself," he said, his eyes pleading.  
  
She nodded as Andrea came onto the porch. "Joe," Andrea said, stopping Joe as he turned to leave.  
  
Joe stopped and looked askance at her. "I know what you and Frank do is dangerous and I'll be honest, when Vanessa first started dating you I would have given anything to have broken the two of you up."  
  
"MOM!" Vanessa gasped, horrified.  
  
"But you were always very careful with my daughter," Andrea continued, ignoring her daughter's outburst. "And considerate. A real gentleman. It didn't take you long to make me change my mind. I want you to know that if we had stayed here and you and Vanessa could have been together, I would have been proud to have you for a son-in-law."  
  
Joe walked over to Andrea and gave her a huge hug. "Thanks," he said. "Vanessa means a lot to me. She always will," he added, smiling over at Vanessa tenderly. "If either of you ever need anything, let me know. I'll come running," he promised.  
  
"I don't doubt it for a minute," Andrea responded, hugging Joe then going over to Vanessa and putting an arm around her shoulders as Joe walked down the steps and climbed into the van. As he pulled away, the two women went back inside.  
  
It was going on eleven thirty when Frank pulled into the back of the Hardy home. He got out of the car and saw his brother lying on the hammock situated between two oak trees in the back yard, staring up at the night sky.  
  
Worried because of the melancholy way Joe was lying, Frank approached his younger brother with some trepidation. "Joe?" he asked, his brown eyes seeking Joe's blue ones as Joe turned his head at his name.  
  
"Why is it the stars are more vibrant on a cold winter night than on a lazy summer one like tonight?" Joe asked, looking back up at the star filled sky.  
  
I knew it! Frank thought, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "What's wrong?" Frank asked, sitting down in the lawn chair near the hammock.  
  
"Vanessa's moving to Japan," Joe dropped the bomb.  
  
"When?" Frank asked, careful to keep his tone even for Joe's sake.  
  
"Tomorrow," Joe answered, sitting up and staring at his brother. "Andrea was offered a great job there but they have to leave immediately."  
  
"I'm sorry," Frank commiserated, getting up and joining Joe on the hammock. Frank sat there giving quiet comfort to his brother. He knew how much Joe cared about Vanessa. At times he thought Joe loved her more than he had Iola. IOLA! The thought sent a shiver of fear down Frank's spine. She had been Joe's childhood sweetheart but had been killed when a terrorist had planted a bomb in their car. Iola and Joe had fought and she had reached the car before Joe. For days Joe wouldn't speak, sleep or eat. He still felt guilty about the incident although it had in no way been his fault. How would Vanessa's leaving affect him? At least she's still alive, Frank thought gratefully.  
  
"It's going to be so different without her," Joe said, giving a deep sigh.  
  
"You two can still keep in touch," Frank said, offering Joe some hope. He hated seeing Joe look so dejected. "You can write each other and call. And don't forget Yahoo Messenger and e-mail," he added, glad they lived in a computer age.  
  
"It wouldn't be the same," Joe said, shaking his head. "We both know it. Oh, we'll write each other every now and then. We might even see each other if we get a case that takes us to Japan," he added. "But it's over. There's no way our relationship could do anything but fester at such a distance."  
  
Joe saw Frank's forehead crease slightly as he tried to hide his frown. "Relax," Joe continued, putting an arm around Frank's shoulders. "I'll get over it. At least I didn't get dumped so my girl could go out with another guy."  
  
"You sure you're all right?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied after a moment's silence. "Vanessa is wonderful. She was exactly what I needed at that juncture of my life. But I've healed. I've grown. And I'm ready to take whatever life throws at me."  
  
"So, you're ready to have Callie fix you up for next week?" Frank asked, looking at Joe critically.  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," Joe objected. "But give me a little while." 


	2. Chapter Two

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Two   
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
But give me a little while. Joe's words echoed in Frank's head three months later. It was the first day back to school after fall break and he watched as Joe passed yet another opportunity to ask someone out. Word had gone out that Joe was once again a free agent days after Vanessa had left and girls all over Bayport had been openly flirting with Joe ever since but he had steadfastly refused to take any hints.  
  
Frank frowned as Sarah Jenkins, a junior, walked away from Joe with a scowl marring her lovely features. "Don't worry," said seventeen-year old Callie Shaw, Frank's blond headed girlfriend of two years. "She won't give up on him."  
  
"Neither will Shelia, Angela, Robyn, Kelly or Deanie," Frank said, naming the five most persistent girls who had been chasing Joe. "But Joe's being just as stubborn," he continued. "He hasn't even feigned an interest in anyone since Vanessa left."  
  
"Have you talked to him about it?" Callie asked, her brown eyes searching his face thoughtfully. She hated to see Frank worry over nothing.  
  
"No," replied Frank, sighing. "I didn't want him to think I was pushing him into a relationship he wasn't ready for."  
  
"Maybe you should," suggested Callie. "At least give him a hint that you're worried about him. That should bring him around."  
  
"You really think so?" Frank asked hopefully.  
  
"I'm sure of it," Callie stated firmly. She knew Joe would never make his brother worry even if it meant going out with someone he didn't really want to go out with.  
  
The bell rang sending everyone scattering for his or her homerooms. Frank made his way to Mr. Isley's room and took his seat. After calling roll, Mr. Isley stood up and smiled at the class. "Some of you had me for history last year and showed a marked interest when we covered Asia," he began. "The Bayport Museum has a special Asian exhibit open to the public beginning today." He continued to talk about the exhibit until the bell rang.  
  
Frank grabbed his backpack and hustled off to his first class. By the time lunch arrived he had figured a way to get Joe out of the house for something other than practice or a game.  
  
"What about Tracey?" Karen Black, Biff's sixteen-year-old girlfriend was asking Joe as Frank sat down beside Callie and placed his tray on the table.  
  
"No," Joe replied with a shake of his head.   
  
"Why not?" demanded Biff Hooper, one of the Hardys' best friends. His short blond hair and blue eyes coupled with his athletic frame made him almost as popular with the girls as Joe. "She likes you. Don't deny it," he quickly continued before Joe could interrupt. "She told Karen she did."  
  
"Vanessa's been gone for over three months," chirped sandy haired Phil Cohen. He looked at Joe through green eyes that were hidden behind a pair of wire frames. "You can't mope forever."  
  
"I'm not moping," Joe insisted. "I'm just not interest in any of the girls you've mentioned. I'd have a lousy time if I tried to date one of them which means they would too."  
  
"Then you shouldn't go out with any of them," Frank put in.  
  
"Huh?" demanded Chet Morton, another good friend of the Hardys and Iola's brother. His sharp brown eyes watched Frank curiously as he scratched his blond head in bewilderment.  
  
"Don't go out with just anyone," Frank clarified. "Go out with us."  
  
"We've been over this..." Joe began.  
  
"Not on a regular date with Callie and me," Frank explained. "Although we have told you you're welcome to tag along. I mean, go with us, all of us, somewhere," he spread his hands to encompass the entire table.  
  
"I go places," Joe defended himself.  
  
"Practice and games don't count," said Tony Prito, an olive-skinned, dark haired youth of eighteen.  
  
"I go to Mr. Pizza's at least twice a week," Joe pointed out defiantly, naming the establishment owned by Tony's family.  
  
"Sure. After school," Tony agreed. "But you come; you eat; you leave. You don't hang out the way you used too."  
  
Joe scowled. "Come on, Baby Brother," Frank pleaded. "If you mow the lawn one more time you're going to kill the grass. You have to start getting out again." Frank had begun to think that maybe Joe was afraid to meet someone because he didn't want to leave himself open to another heartbreak. He had to help Joe over his pain even if he didn't want help.  
  
"What did you have in mind?" Joe asked, sighing in defeat. Everyone was on his case. Maybe if he did a couple of things with them they would leave him alone. Wishful thinking!   
  
"Mr. Isley mentioned a new exhibit at the museum," Frank said, thinking Joe might be more agreeable to something slow the first time out. "Why don't we go there after school?"  
  
"Practice," Joe said, shaking his head.  
  
"Friday, then," Biff put in. "There isn't a game this weekend so coach is letting us have the weekend off."  
  
"Okay," Joe agreed. "Can I eat my lunch now?"  
  
The rest of the week passed all too quickly for Joe but, as promised, Friday after school he climbed into the van with Frank, Callie and Phil and headed to the museum where they were meeting Chet, his girlfriend, Helen Osborne, Biff, Karen and Tony.  
  
Inside, the group went through the tour then remained to get a better look at the Asian exhibit. Not really interested, Joe returned to the display of rugs where he stopped in front of the only one he liked. On it was a fight scene between two warriors.  
  
"It's one f the best ones here," observed a feminine voice from Joe's right.  
  
Startled, he turned to look at the speaker. "I didn't hear you come up," Joe said, smiling at the attractive brunette whose hazel eyes were looking at the rug.  
  
"The carpet on this floor is so plush, it's no wonder," she replied, her gaze turning to him briefly before settling on the rug once again. "The warriors are interesting," she said.  
  
"I guess," Joe agreed half-heartedly. She turned to him once again, her gaze questioning. "I'm not really into this stuff," he admitted. "My friends just dragged me along.  
  
"Me either," she confessed. "My dad insisted I come with him. Why waste time on the past when there is so much going on in the present?"  
  
"Exactly!" agreed Joe with a big grin. Finally! Someone who understands.   
  
"Where are your friends?" she asked.  
  
"They are looking at some of the displays," Joe said. "Looks like you lost your dad too," he added.  
  
"Dad's discussing something with the curator," she replied. "So, how did you let your friends talk you into wasting a Friday afternoon at the museum?"  
  
Joe shrugged. "My girlfriend moved out of the country and they thought it was time I started dating again but since I haven't found anyone I want to date, they conned me into joining them here for an outing."  
  
"When did she move?"   
  
"Two months ago," Joe answered.  
  
"They're right," she stated. "It is time you started dating again."  
  
"Are you asking me out?" Joe flirted with her.  
  
"Only if it means getting me out of here," she retorted.  
  
"Done," agreed Joe at once. "I'm Joe," he introduced himself.  
  
"Marie," she returned the introduction with a beautiful smile. "Let me tell my dad I'm leaving...er, you will drop me off at home later?" she asked.  
  
"Of course," Joe replied gallantly. "Where do you live?"  
  
"On Sunset Drive," she answered.  
  
"That's why I haven't seen you around Bayport High," Joe said. "You must go to Bethany."  
  
"Actually, I go to a boarding school in England," she corrected him. "But I'm home for a couple of weeks vacation and I am trying to convince Daddy to let me stay in the states and go to school around here." She smiled at him. "You go find your friends and I'll let my dad know I'm leaving. I'll meet you at the exit in ten minutes."  
  
Joe found Frank, Callie and Phil first. "I'm going to cut out," he said. "Can you catch a ride with Biff or Chet so I can take the van?"  
  
"Forget it," Frank told him crossly. "You promised you'd have a good time this afternoon."  
  
"And I will," Joe said. "Just not here. I met this girl while I was checking out one of the rugs," he explained. "She likes this stuff about as much as I do but her dad made her come."  
  
"And she's going to leave with you?" Callie asked a bit skeptically.   
  
"Yes. Her name is Marie and she lives on Sunset Drive," Joe said.  
  
"I guess just because she goes to a neighboring high school that is no reason not to go out with her," Frank said thoughtfully. Joe did not correct him. "Okay. We'll beg rides. Have a good time and don't be too late."  
  
"Eleven forty-five at the latest," Joe promised. He left the threesome, whistling.  
  
"He's baaack," Phil said, grinning as Joe's whistle faded away. 


	3. Chapter Three

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Three  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"We had better find the others and tell them not to leave without us," Frank said, grinning.  
  
The three split up to look for their friends. Frank spotted the exit as a petite brunette came up to Joe and took his hand. He watched them leave, happy to see his brother finally moving on, then continued looking for Chet, Biff or Tony.  
  
"I want that painting!" thundered a deep baritone from the room ahead of Frank. Curious, he made his way to the entryway and stood to the side, watching the curator, a man of average build with pale blue eyes and thinning black hair try to explain why he couldn't sell the painting.  
  
"Talk to the owner then," ordered the man whom Frank felt for some reason he should know, but didn't. Like the curator, he was of average height but his form filled out the Armani suit he wore leaving no one in doubt he packed a powerful build. His hair was a sandy brown and his eyes were an intense blue. His square chin promised he was hard and stubborn. "Make him sell."  
  
"I can't make him sell," the curator insisted, shaking his head. "He has put the painting on permanent loan to the museum. It is under contract. You would not only have to have the owner's permission to purchase the painting but the board of directors as well."  
  
"I'll give a million dollars," the curator was told. "Your board of directors," he said the word with contempt, "and the owner can sort through who gets what." The man took a step closer to the curator and Frank tensed, expecting a fight. "I strongly suggest you convince him to sell," he stated, his tone as menacing as his proximity.  
  
Frank cleared his throat; worried that the man was going to start something he didn't think the curator could handle. The man looked up and spotted Frank near the doorway. "Who are you?" he snapped.  
  
Frank pulled himself up and puffed out his chest, much as a gorilla would when trying to bluff its way through a confrontation. "Frank Hardy," he answered with an even tone.  
  
The man looked him over from head to toe before locking eyes with Frank. "You're Fenton Hardy's son," he observed, his eyes narrowed.  
  
Frank gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Stay out of my business," the man ordered Frank in a gruff tone. "I don't want to cross swords with Fenton Hardy but I will if I must and I assure you, I will be the victor," he ended, then turned back to the curator. "I want that painting by tomorrow afternoon," he growled before striding away. He brushed past Frank who had to side step to avoid being run down by the irate man.  
  
The curator sighed and nervously ran a hand over the top of his head letting it come to a rest at the back of his neck. He gave his neck a little rub before dropping his hand and turning to leave the room.  
  
"Excuse me," Frank stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. "What painting did he want?"  
  
"The Renoir," the curator replied, pointing with a jerk of his head. "It's one of our prize pieces. The museum will never allow it to be sold."  
  
"Who was he?" Frank asked.  
  
"You don't know?" the curator asked in amazement. Frank shook his head. "But you are Fenton Hardy's son?"  
  
"I already admitted I was," Frank pointed out. "Is he someone I should know?"  
  
"He's someone you should know of, anyway," replied the curator, whose name Frank could now read on a metal tag on the front of his shirt. Ralph Benson. "That was Cooper Sorrel," Benson continued. "The guy who took over the Mafia after Bonai died last year." 


	4. Chapter Four

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Four  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Joe set the tray down on the table and slid into the booth facing Marie. "Two chocolate shakes, fries, and burgers," he said, smiling. "And...." he paused as the current song playing ceased and a new one by his favorite rock group began. "Music."  
  
"Cool," Marie said. "My favorite group."  
  
"How long have you been back in the states?" Joe asked.  
  
"I just got home yesterday," she informed him. "It is sooo nice to be able to wear real clothes again."   
  
Joe grinned. Obviously, real clothes to her were faded blue jeans and a peasant blouse. "I kind of know what you mean," he said. "I hate having to dress up too. Jeans are definitely the most comfortable item of clothing ever made."  
  
"True, but I meant anything besides a uniform. They are a horrid burgundy and yellow. Bleah!" she shuddered at the thought.   
  
Joe wrinkled his nose. They did sound nasty. "Well, maybe you can convince your dad to let you stay here."  
  
"I hope so," she agreed. "So, tell me about you," Marie said, leaning forward and tucking her chin in her hand as she gazed at him.  
  
"What do you want to know?" he asked.  
  
"Why has it taken you two months to go out with another girl?" she wanted to know.   
  
"You sure you want to hear this?" he asked her, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Isn't there some unwritten law about discussing your former girlfriend on your first date with another girl?"  
  
"Don't consider this a date, then," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Come on. I'm curious."  
  
"Curiosity killed the cat," Joe informed her smartly.  
  
"Satisfaction brought it back," she retorted.  
  
Joe laughed. "You win," he said, leaning back against his seat. "Truthfully?" She nodded. "I was kind of afraid."  
  
"What? Why?"   
  
"Vanessa was my second long-term girlfriend," Joe began. "Before her, I dated a girl named Iola. I was so in love with her. I was sure we would finish high school and get married and have a large family."  
  
"What happened?" Marie asked softly.  
  
"She died," Joe told her. "Someone planted a bomb in my car and she got there before I did," his eyes misted a bit at the memory.  
  
Marie reached over and took hold of his hand. "I blamed myself for a long time. It was my car. I should have been the one who died. Not her."  
  
"Did you put the bomb in the car?" Marie asked.  
  
"No," Joe replied, his face breaking into a scowl.  
  
"Did you know someone had put a bomb there?" she asked.  
  
"Of course not!" he declared hotly.  
  
"Then why did you blame yourself?" she demanded. "It wasn't your fault. You said you loved her. You would never have let her get hurt."  
  
"But she did," Joe said.  
  
"But you didn't let it happen," Marie pointed out. "It just did. No one can control the future. Not even a guy who believes he is Superman."  
  
"I don't believe I'm Superman," Joe disagreed. "Robin, maybe," he amended with a little smile. "Anyway, after Iola died, I was lost. I felt I didn't deserve to be happy."  
  
"Until you met Vanessa?" guessed Marie.  
  
"Until I met Vanessa," agreed Joe. "She made me realize that it was all right to love again. She made me want to be alive again."  
  
"I can see why you would miss her," Marie said. "But I still don't understand why you would be afraid to date again."  
  
"I've had two perfect relationships and both of them are over. I don't think I could handle falling in love again," Joe admitted. Did I really say that out loud? he wondered silently. I haven't even told Frank!  
  
"Hearts are wonderful organs," Marie said, rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb. "They are very resilient. But," and she stressed the word and waited until he looked into her eyes before continuing. "But you have to use it or it will harden and be completely useless."  
  
"I love," Joe insisted. "I just don't want to fall in love with anyone else. At least not for a while," he amended. He still wanted a family.  
  
"Going out with someone doesn't mean you have to fall in love," Marie pointed out.   
  
"But the chance is there," Joe argued.  
  
"And here I thought you looked like a risk taker," she teased.  
  
"I am," Joe stated.  
  
"Just not where it counts."  
  
"You think I'm being a coward?" Joe asked.  
  
"No," Marie replied, shaking her head. "Just human. No one wants to get hurt but it's a part of life."  
  
"Have you ever lost someone you love?" Joe asked.  
  
"No," she answered. "I haven't been lucky enough to fall in love. But, if I ever do, I won't hide away once its over," she stated with certainty. "To have true love even for a short time is better than to have never had it at all."  
  
Joe looked at her thoughtfully. "You're saying I should be grateful I had it twice and stop trying to avoid it in case I'm lucky enough to find it again."  
  
"Exactly," she affirmed.  
  
"You know," he said, smiling. "You're right. I've been blessed twice and I should see it as such." He started laughing. "And here I thought I was the optimist in the family," he added, thinking of his brother. 


	5. Chapter Five

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Five  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Joe arrived home a little after eight o'clock to find Frank already there. "What are you doing home so early on a Friday night?" Joe asked. "Did you and Callie have a fight?"  
  
"No," Frank said, shaking his head. "I met someone at the museum and wanted to check him out. Callie understood."  
  
"Must be someone important then," Joe said. "Give."  
  
Frank shook his head. "You first. Tell me about this girl."  
  
"Her name is Marie," Joe obliged, sitting down on Frank's bed. "She goes to boarding school in England but she's home on vacation and is trying to talk her dad into letting her stay here," he quickly continued seeing Frank's frown.   
  
Joe gave a sigh. "Look. I admit I didn't really want to go out with anyone and not because I wasn't interested in them. The girls at school are nice. And, honestly, I wouldn't mind going out with Kelly Arlene."  
  
"Then why..." Frank began but Joe kept talking.  
  
"I didn't want to go out with anyone because I was afraid of getting hurt again," Joe confessed.  
  
"But you've changed your mind," Frank observed, reading Joe's body language. "Why?"  
  
"Marie," Joe informed him. "She wanted to know why I hadn't been dating after Vanessa and I found myself telling her. Everything. She's really easy to talk to. You're going to like her."  
  
Frank remained silent waiting for Joe to continue. "She made me realize I'm not cursed. I'm blessed. I've lost two wonderful women but I had them. They loved me as much as I loved them. Not many people can say that."  
  
"So, you're okay now?" Frank asked. Joe nodded. Frank let out a big sigh.  
  
"I'm sorry, bro," Joe said. "I know you were worried about me."  
  
"That's what big brothers do," Frank replied, brushing away his apology.  
  
"No. That's what my big brother does," Joe corrected him with a smile. "Now. Who is this guy you couldn't wait to find out more about."  
  
"Cooper Sorrel," Frank answered.  
  
Joe's forehead crinkled in thought. "The name sounds vaguely familiar," he said, getting off the bed and going to stand beside Frank who had sat down at his desk and was pulling up an image on his computer monitor.  
  
"He should," Frank said. "He's the new Mafia boss." A picture popped up and Joe gazed at it. There was something about the man he recognized but he couldn't place what it was. "I wonder what he was doing at the museum."  
  
"Trying to buy a painting," Frank informed him. He went on to tell Joe about the conversation he had overheard.   
  
"Well, at least he doesn't want a confrontation," Joe said. "That would be a good thing."  
  
"Afraid?" Frank asked.  
  
"No," Joe denied. "Dad would win."  
  
"I am," Frank admitted. "Dad might win the fight but a lot of people could get hurt in the process. Unless he starts something, I, for one, am going to stay out of his way," he concluded as the phone rang.   
  
"Hello," Joe answered it. "Yes, Sir." He paused a moment as the caller spoke. "Yes, Sir. We're on our way."  
  
"Who was it?" Frank asked as Joe replaced the receiver.  
  
"The curator at the museum, Ralph Benson," Joe answered. "He said he needs for us to go to the museum immediately."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"A Renoir painting has been stolen."  
  
Frank and Joe arrived at the museum less than half an hour later. Frank knew they had just begun a war. The Renoir was the painting Sorrel had wanted. He knew there was no way he would pay a million dollars for it when he could just have someone take it.  
  
The door opened as the boys approached and Benson exited to greet them. "The museum closed at six," he informed the boys. "The painting was there when the security guard checked the floor. When the night guard arrived at eight, the painting was missing. No alarm went off," he ended his tone frantic.  
  
"A two-hour time frame isn't too bad," Joe noted. "Have you checked the premises? The thief could still around."  
  
"Both guards and I have been searching the premises but so far, no one has been found and there has been no sign of an intruder," Benson responded.  
  
"Except for the alarm system that failed to go off," Frank said.  
  
"That's right," Benson agreed, nodding.  
  
"Why aren't the police here?" Joe asked, looking around.  
  
"I didn't call them," Benson confessed.  
  
"Why not?" Frank demanded, surprised.  
  
"You heard him. He wanted that painting," Benson said, reminding Frank of earlier that afternoon. "If I call the police on Sorrel, I'm as good as dead!" He looked at the boys beseechingly. "You two have to get the painting back."  
  
"If Sorrel did take it, then the police will have to be involved," Joe pointed out.  
  
"What do you mean, if?" Benson demanded angrily.  
  
"He tried to buy it," Joe stated. "It would be incredibly stupid to steal it after that."  
  
"But...but who else could have broken in here and taken it without setting off an alarm?" Benson demanded.  
  
"He does have a point," Frank said to Joe. "My money is on Sorrel. But," he added, seeing Joe about to argue. "You are right too. It could be a coincidence." He turned to the curator. "You have to report the theft," Frank insisted. "If something happens and the painting does not turn up, the museum won't be able to collect any insurance for its loss nor would the owner."  
  
"Fine," agreed Benson, his lips tight. "But I will not mention Sorrel. I'm leaving that up to you two."  
  
Frank looked at Joe, his own lips forming a grim line. "I guess we have just officially begun a war with the Mafia." 


	6. Chapter Six

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Six  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Let's look the place over," Frank said, glancing at Joe as the curator left the two alone to go and call the authorities.  
  
"I wonder if both guards are still here," Joe said.  
  
"Judging by what Mr. Benson said, they should be," Frank replied. "Why don't you look around in here and I'll go and question the guards. Remember," he added as he was leaving the room, "this is a crime scene and the police will be here soon. Don't bother anything."  
  
"Remember this is a crime scene," Joe mimicked Frank after he had left. "I've been doing this as long as he has," he grumbled. "It would be nice if he wouldn't treat me like a dunce." Immediately contrite, Joe bit his bottom lip as he looked around. Frank had never treated him like an idiot although there were times when he wouldn't have blamed him if he had. No, Joe decided. Frank was nervous. Joe knew Frank was afraid that if Sorrel had taken the painting then their family and friends could be in danger. The mob was not above going after someone other than their prime target to get their message across. Joe didn't blame Frank at all. He, himself, was terrified.  
  
While Joe searched the scene, Frank went in search of the two security guards. He found them in the back of the museum inside of a room marked personnel only. The room was outfitted with monitors and it dawned on Frank that the theft must have been filmed.  
  
"Hello, I'm Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself to the two men. "Mr. Benson has asked my brother, Joe, and me, to find the missing painting."  
  
"Yes," responded the taller of the two men. "Mr. Benson said he was going to call you."  
  
"Was the Renoir monitored on tape?" Frank asked.  
  
"We were just checking that," replied the shorter guard, his curly red hair poking out from beneath his cap. "I checked the room at six twenty three p.m. and the painting was there. We started there to look for the thief but at six twenty nine the camera is covered. When it is uncovered ten minutes later, the painting is missing." He stepped aside so Frank could see the video tape play on one of the screens.  
  
"Six minutes?" Frank asked, amazed. "Who all was in the museum at that time?"   
  
"Me, Mr. Benson, and Anthony and Sarah Hodges," was the answer.  
  
"Who are the Hodges?" Frank inquired.  
  
"They take care of the housekeeping," the guard answered.   
  
Frank thanked the guards for their time then returned to where Joe was just finishing his inspection. "Find anything?" he asked.  
  
"There's a towel near the security camera," Joe answered. "I'm guessing the thief used it to cover the camera and protect his identity while he took the painting."  
  
"You're right," acknowledged Frank before telling him what he had learned from the guards.  
  
"So whoever stole the painting had to have an intimate knowledge of the timing of the guards and the security system," Joe said. "Mr. Benson did say the alarm never went off. Seems like an inside job to me," he ended as the curator entered the room.  
  
"The police are on their way," Benson told the two. "I didn't tell them I had asked you two to find the painting before I called them," he added.  
  
"Probably a good idea," Frank said. "They tend to get antsy when they don't hear it first. We'll clear out tonight and catch up with the police tomorrow."  
  
"Thank you boys so much," Benson said gratefully. "This painting is a big loss for the museum."  
  
"We'll find it," Frank assured the man before leading Joe out of the room.  
  
The two arrived home around ten-thirty and were met in the kitchen by a petite blond woman with blue eyes that matched Joe's. "I'm glad you two are home early," Laura Hardy greeted her sons. "Joe, you need to call Marie. Her number is by the living room phone."  
  
"Thanks," Joe replied, leaving the two alone.  
  
"What's wrong?" Laura asked Frank as Joe exited.  
  
"A painting was taken from the Bayport Museum this evening," Frank informed his mother. "The curator has asked us to find it."  
  
"Shouldn't be a problem for you and your brother," she said, her voice full of pride. "Your father called," she said, changing the subject. "He'll be home in a day or two."  
  
"That's good," Frank replied.  
  
"I'm off to bed," Laura continued. "There's apple pie in the refrigerator if you're hungry."  
  
"Mmm," Frank replied appreciatively. He kissed his mom goodnight and headed for the fridge as she left the room.  
  
When Joe returned to the kitchen there were two glasses of milk and two saucers, each with a slice of apple pie on it, sitting on the table. Joe sat down and pulled one of the saucers close to him. "Marie wants me to stop by her place tomorrow for lunch," he told Frank as Frank replaced the milk in the refrigerator and took a seat. "Her dad wants to meet me before we go out tomorrow night."  
  
"Yet, he let her go with you today?" Frank asked, his brown eyes reflecting his curiosity.  
  
"Apparently, she didn't tell him she was leaving with a guy," Joe said. "I guess she was afraid he wouldn't let her go." Joe paused before taking a bite of pie. "If you need me tomorrow, I can cancel," he offered, feeling guilty because they had just started a new case.  
  
"No," Frank quickly vetoed the idea. Joe was interested in going out again and he wasn't going to ruin the progress Joe had made. "I'm just going to talk to the police and see what they came up with," he continued. "Maybe run a background search on the museum's employees."  
  
"You think it's an inside job too," Joe commented, his eyes twinkling.  
  
"Not really," Frank denied with a shake of his head. "But a good detective always covers all his bases."  
  
"But we have no reason to believe Sorrel is behind the theft," Joe pointed out.  
  
"Come off it, Joe," Frank snapped. "Remember what Dad taught us: in a mystery there is no such thing as a coincidence."  
  
"There's an exception to every rule," Joe argued.  
  
"Why are you so sure he isn't behind the theft?" Frank retorted.  
  
"I'm not," Joe admitted. "But from the way the theft occurred, it seems more believable that someone on the inside took it."  
  
"Maybe Sorrel had inside help," Frank theorized.  
  
"Possible," Joe acknowledged. "Either way, be careful tomorrow?" Frank nodded. "If you need me, the number is 555-8584."  
  
"Relax," Frank ordered him, smiling at the concern Joe was showing. "I won't do anything dangerous on my own."  
  
***  
  
Joe arrived at Marie's house at eleven-ten the next morning. It was a three-story mansion surrounded by a brick wall. As he pulled to a stop, he could see a tennis court in the distance and a stable with two horses grazing in the accompanying field.  
  
Joe got out of the van and made his way up to the front door. He felt strangely underdressed in a pair of jeans and light blue cotton shirt. The door opened before he could knock and Marie stood there, grinning happily.  
  
"I'm glad you could come," she said as he entered. "Dad's been pitching a hissy fit since he found out I was out with you yesterday instead of a girl."  
  
"That makes me feel so much better," Joe replied dryly.  
  
"Relax. Dad doesn't bite," Marie told him. "Hard," she couldn't resist teasing. She took his hand and led him into a large sitting room filled with a variety of what Joe was sure was priceless art.  
  
"Daddy," Marie said, leading Joe over to one of the chairs where a man sat with his face buried behind a newspaper. "This is Joe Hardy," she said as her father laid the paper down. "Joe, this is my dad: Cooper Sorrel." 


	7. Chapter Seven

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Seven   
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Joe Hardy," Sorrel said in a low voice as he rose to his feet. "Another son of Fenton Hardy?"   
  
Marie's eyes narrowed on the two males as Joe drew himself up straight and made eye contact with her father. "Yes, Sir," he answered. "I guess I had better leave," he added.  
  
"NO!" Marie shouted in protest, her hazel eyes widening.  
  
"Of course not," Sorrel agreed. "You must stay for lunch. Honey," he said, turning to his daughter. "Go tell Andre we're ready for lunch to be served."  
  
Sorrel waited until Marie had left the room then turned back to Joe. "My family is separate from my work," he asserted. "My daughter knows only that I run a large corporation. It will stay this way."  
  
Joe did not respond to the thinly veiled threat in his tone. Instead, Joe met his eyes and asked a question that a braver man might have thought twice about. "Did you take the Renoir from the museum last night?"  
  
Sorrel stared at Joe in shock. This is it, Joe thought. Frank always said I would go too far one day.   
  
"Did I take it?" Sorrel asked, finally. "The Renoir?" Joe nodded his head once. "The Renoir I wanted?" he asked, seemingly unable to believe what Joe had asked him. Again, Joe gave a curt nod. "This is outrageous!" Sorrel thundered, his face turning red as Joe leaned back in surprise at the sudden change in demeanor. "How dare..."  
  
"Daddy!" Marie snapped, coming back into the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, Pumpkin," Sorrel said, trying to calm down. "But I have just had some distressing news. The Renoir I was trying to purchase for your grandmother was stolen."  
  
"How did you find out?" Marie demanded, looking at him suspiciously. She hadn't heard the phone ring.  
  
"Your young man just informed me," Sorrel told her.  
  
"How do you know?" she asked curiously, directing her gaze at Joe.  
  
"My brother and I are detectives," Joe informed her. "The curator asked us to find the thief and return the painting."  
  
"He did?" Sorrel exclaimed, perking up. "Wonderful!" he put an arm around Joe's shoulders and smiled, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "You and your brother find the Renoir and return it to the museum. I will keep working on Mr. Benson. I am sure we can come to an agreement on a purchase price."  
  
As he finished speaking the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Marie said. "Too bad it's Roxton's day off."  
  
After Marie left, Sorrel removed his arm from Joe's shoulders. "To answer your question," he said. "I did not take the Renoir. I don't know who took it but I do want it. For the record, young Hardy, I do not give stolen merchandise to my family."  
  
"I never said you did," Joe pointed out. "I only asked if you had taken it. You are a suspect."  
  
Sorrel broke out laughing at Joe's audacity. "You have guts, young man. I will give you that." He quit laughing and turned serious. "About my daughter..." he began.  
  
"She won't hear anything from me," Joe promised. "I like your daughter," he continued. "But I'm no fool. I believe it would be for the best if I just left."  
  
"Perhaps you should leave," Sorrel agreed, unaware Marie had just walked in followed by three men. "It is better that you end it now before problems arise."  
  
"No!" Marie screamed. "I hate you!" she shouted at her father before turning and fleeing from the room. Seconds later they heard her bedroom door slam.  
  
Sorrel looked over at Joe, a frown marring his features. "You do realize that since her mother died, she has been the sole light of my life," he said.  
  
Joe nodded as he listened to Sorrel but glanced nervously at two of the men who had entered the room: Greg Maxwell and Steve Piers. Both were suspected of being hit men for the mob although no evidence had ever come to light.  
  
"There is only one course of action that can be taken," Sorrel continued, not paying attention to the evil anticipatory smiles of the men who were looking at Joe. "You will date my daughter until she returns to boarding school."  
  
"No!" Joe protested, as shocked as the men by the door. "It will only create a lot of problems for everyone."  
  
"He's right," Maxwell put in, stepping forward. His green eyes raked over Joe with contempt. "He's Hardy's son for crying out loud."  
  
"Enough!" thundered Sorrel. "I will not have my daughter hurt." He looked into Joe's eyes with his own hard blue ones. "Find the Renoir but stay out of my business," he warned. "However, if you do interfere in matters that do not concern you, you may wish you had never been born." 


	8. Chapter Eight

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Frank woke up late Saturday morning and went for his usual weekend jog to the park and back. When he returned, he woke Joe up then took a shower. While Joe prepared for his luncheon date with Marie, Frank went online to research the missing Renoir. He typed in the name of the painting into the Google search engine and up popped a list of websites.  
  
Frank read enough about the painting to find out the reason it was more valuable than his others was because this was a work in progress. Renoir had died before he could finish it. According to the website it was on permanent loan to the Bayport Museum by the estate of Philip Langley.  
  
Frank heard the shower stop and fifteen minutes later his bedroom door opened. "Are you sure you don't need me today?" Joe asked.  
  
"Second thoughts, huh?" Frank said, grinning. "Forget it Baby Brother. It's past time you were dating again." Joe opened his mouth to argue but Frank went on. "Honestly, I'm just going to stop by the police station and check out a few websites. I'll fill you in tonight when you get home."  
  
After Joe left, Frank went into his father's office where a list of passwords were kept locked in the file cabinet. He removed the list then sat down at his father's computer and began running searches on the personnel at the museum. By one that afternoon, Frank had social security numbers, addresses, parking misdemeanors and everything anyone could possibly find on anyone online. He had printed the info up as he went instead of taking time to read it, knowing Joe would want to see it as well.  
  
He disconnected as his mother appeared in the doorway. "Lunch is ready," she informed him.  
  
"Thanks Mom," Frank replied, standing up and returning the passwords to their proper place. "I'm starved."  
  
"What are you going to do this afternoon?" Laura asked as the two went downstairs.  
  
"I'm going to stop by headquarters and see what they turned up on the break-in," he said. "Then I'm going over to Callie's."  
  
"Good," Laura said. "You need to have some fun too."  
  
After lunch, Laura left to visit a friend and Frank did the dishes before heading to the police station. Once there, he asked Kevin Riker, the sergeant on desk duty, who was in charge of the break-in at the museum. "Riley," Riker answered, grinning at Frank. "The curator wanted it kept hush-hush," he added, his brown eyes twinkling. "But we figured you and Joe would have your noses in it."  
  
"Why is that?" Frank asked, slightly amused that they were known so well.  
  
"We found Joe's prints on the wall next to where the painting had been hung," Riker told him. "I was with Con when he asked if Joe and you had been there. Benson tried to evade the question but finally admitted that you two might have been there with a group of teens earlier."  
  
"But Joe's not a suspect even though you found his prints there?" Frank asked, his brown eyes twinkling mischievously.  
  
Riker narrowed his eyes on Frank. "What have you got up your sleeve?" he demanded.  
  
"You know how Joe's always playing jokes on people," Frank began.  
  
"They're harmless," the sergeant replied.  
  
"So is this," Frank assured him. "Joe's out with a new girl tonight. You could interrupt the date and bring Joe in for questioning."  
  
"That's all?" Riker asked, grinning.  
  
"As hard as Joe tries to make a good impression on a girl?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Trust me. It will be enough."  
  
"Clear it with Riley," Riker suggested. "But, uh...tell him I'll help."  
  
"Will do," Frank replied. "Thanks."  
  
Frank went upstairs and came to a stop at Con's desk. He outlined the joke he wanted to pull on Joe. "Oooh, yeah," Con agreed, giving Frank a lazy smile. "Joe has gotten me a time or two. This should be fun."  
  
"Now," Frank said, turning serious. "Did you find anything at the museum?"  
  
"Just the business card," Con replied.  
  
"Business card?" Frank asked, his forehead crinkling. "Whose? Where did you find it?"  
  
"Near the exit," Con answered. "You didn't go over the scene before us?" he queried.  
  
"Joe did," Frank answered. "Whose card?"  
  
"Cooper Sorrel," Con stated. "It was stuck to a piece of gum on the floor."  
  
""I wonder how Joe missed that?" Frank said.  
  
"Well, just because his business card was there doesn't mean he was," Con said.  
  
"Maybe not," Frank agreed. He was uncomfortable because he felt like he was withholding information but Benson hadn't wanted to mention Sorrel as a suspect in the crime and so Frank was forced to remain quiet for the time being.  
  
"Any idea where Joe will be tonight?" Con asked a little later when Frank was getting ready to leave.  
  
"I think he was planning on taking Marie to the Ice Capades," Frank answered. "Call me on my cell when you bring him in?" he requested. "I've got to be here when he finds out it was a prank."  
  
"You will be," Con assured him. "No way I'm taking the heat for this one alone."  
  
***  
  
"Where are you two going this evening?" Sorrel asked as lunch was almost over.  
  
"The Ice Capades," Joe answered. "The show begins at six."  
  
"And I thought we could go horseback riding beforehand and maybe have a light supper here before we leave," Marie put in.  
  
"Excellent," approved Sorrel. "You do have tickets for tonight?" he asked, looking at Joe.  
  
"No," Joe admitted. "But there will be some on sale at the door." Sorrel did not reply. The two youths excused themselves and went to the stables leaving Sorrel alone with his three guests.  
  
"Boss, are you really going to let that kid hang around here?" demanded Piers.  
  
Sorrel narrowed his eyes at Piers. "Until further notice, Joe is a part of this family," he stated firmly. He stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a phone call to make."  
  
The afternoon went by quickly and soon it was time for Joe and Marie to leave for the coliseum. "Ready to go?" Sorrel asked, joining the youths.  
  
"Yes, Daddy," Marie replied, reaching up and kissing her father's cheek.  
  
"You wouldn't mind if I and Steve and Greg tag along, would you?" Sorrel asked his daughter.  
  
"Of course not," Marie answered, her smile faltering just a bit. "But we may not get seats together."  
  
"Actually, I called a friend of mine while you two were out and obtained front row tickets for all of us," Sorrel said.  
  
"Wonderful!" Marie enthused. "Isn't Dad the greatest?" she asked Joe who merely gave her a nod accompanied by a tight-lipped smile. He knew if anyone saw him with Sorrel, he was fried.  
  
The group arrived at the coliseum and took their seats. The show ended three hours later and they prepared to leave. "One moment, please," Sorrel said, moving away from Joe and Marie with his two bodyguards once they were in the lobby. He pulled out his cell phone as he moved away.  
  
"That was great!" Marie said, looking up into Joe's eyes. "And thank you for not objecting to my dad coming along. I really don't get to see a lot of him."  
  
"Joe," a gruff voice came from their right. Joe turned and saw Sergeant Con Riley and Kevin Riker approaching.  
  
"Something wrong?" Joe demanded, worried something had happened to Frank.  
  
"I'm sorry, Joe," Con said. "But we have to take you down to headquarters."  
  
"Why?" Marie demanded, wide-eyed as her father came up behind the officers unnoticed.  
  
"His fingerprints were found at a crime scene," Con answered, his tone dead serious. He looked back to Joe. "We have to run you in for questioning."  
  
"You will do no such thing," Sorrel sated, causing Joe to cringe. I'm done for! Joe thought as Riley and Riker turned to face Sorrel. "Have you a warrant?"  
  
"N..no," Con stuttered, shock taking charge of his tongue briefly.  
  
"Then he does not have to go anywhere with you," Sorrel stated.  
  
"It's okay," Joe put in.   
  
"No, it is not," Marie declared hotly.  
  
"Quiet right, my dear," Sorrel agreed. "I will call my attorney at once. He can not be forced to go to police headquarters for questioning."  
  
"You do that," Con said, regaining his composure. "In the meantime, Joe is coming with us."  
  
"No, he's not," Sorrel said, his voice low and menacing.  
  
"It's okay," Joe sad, stepping between the two men. He turned to Sorrel. "Let me handle this."  
  
Sorrel waited two beats before speaking. "Very well," he replied. "But if you do not call me by eleven tonight, my attorney will be at headquarters by eleven thirty," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. Marie kissed Joe's cheek before she followed her father from the lobby.  
  
"Questioning, my eye," Joe said once Sorrel and company were gone. "What's going on?"  
  
"It was a prank," Con admitted. "But now, I think you really have some explaining to do." 


	9. Chapter Nine

Part of the Family   
  
Chapter Nine  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Joe accompanied Riker and Riley down to the police station, "Have you called Frank yet?" Joe asked, sitting down in the seat in front of Riley's desk, dejected. This was the perfect ending to the day he had had.  
  
Con lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "You said it was a prank," Joe reminded him. "Frank would have wanted to be in on it."  
  
"Actually, it was his idea," Riker confessed. "But no. We haven't gotten around to calling him yet."  
  
"Can I?" Joe asked. Riley nodded at the phone. Joe dialed Frank's cell. Frank answered on the first ring. "Ha ha. Very funny." Joe said, his voice leaving Frank in little doubt it was anything but.   
  
"What's funny?" Frank asked, feigning innocence.  
  
"Getting Riley and Riker to bring me in for questioning," Joe replied. "Swing by the coliseum and pick up the van before it gets towed," he added.  
  
"They didn't let you follow them?" Frank asked, puzzled.  
  
"No," Joe replied, his tone not quite controlling his anger. "Thanks to you, I'm in real trouble now."  
  
"What do you mean?" Frank demanded, becoming alarmed. "Con knows we're investigating this case."  
  
"I'll explain it to you later," Joe said, feeling tired all of the sudden. "Just get the van," he ended, hanging up without saying goodbye. This whole day had been a disaster and he had a feeling the nightmare was just beginning.  
  
Con decided to wait for Frank to arrive before questioning Joe. "What's going on?" Frank demanded as soon as he entered and saw Joe sitting by Con's desk. Joe popped the rest of the Twinkie he had been eating into his mouth as Frank approached.  
  
"That's what I am going to find out," Con said, waving a hand to another chair.  
  
Frank sat down and looked at Joe wondering what had gone wrong. Had Joe realized it was a practical joke and convinced Riley and Riker to turn the tables on him? No, he concluded. Joe looked too upset.  
  
"Now," Con began, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands on the desk in front of him as he looked at Joe. "What were you doing with Cooper Sorrel?"  
  
"WHAT?!" Frank exploded, leaping to his feet and glaring down at his younger brother. "Are you crazy?" Realizing everyone in the over-crowded precinct room was now looking at them, he took several deep calming breaths and sat back down.  
  
Aware that everyone had ceased what they were doing and was listening to him, Joe took a deep breath and looked right at Frank as he spoke. "Remember the girl I met at the museum?" Joe asked.  
  
Frank nodded. "The one you spent the day with."  
  
"She's Sorrel's daughter," Joe stated.  
  
Frank turned white. It is my fault! If I hadn't made Joe go to the museum he never would have met her! he thought. No. It's Joe's fault. Once he knew who she was, he should have left her.  
  
"Why didn't you leave her alone when you found out who her dad was?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Because I never found out until this morning," Joe snapped. "And I tried to leave but she got mad at her dad and he told me I had to date his daughter until she returned to boarding school."  
  
"When you get into trouble, you really get into trouble," Riker commented, shaking his head in amazement.  
  
"Tell me about it," Joe replied sourly. "Dad's going to kill me."  
  
"If Sorrel doesn't first," Con put in.  
  
"On the bright side," Joe said, perking up a bit. "We didn't have time to discuss any future plans so I probably won't have to see her again," he ended, a sad note creeping into his voice.  
  
"You don't sound too happy about that," Con noted critically.  
  
Joe shrugged. "I like her," he confessed. "And she doesn't have a clue about her dad. It isn't fair we can't go out."  
  
"Fair or not, you can't see her again," Frank stated with finality.  
  
"I know," Joe agreed, frowning. Hadn't he already said that?  
  
"Be sure and call Sorrel when you get home," Con told Joe. At Frank's raised eyebrow, he explained about the confrontation at the coliseum.   
  
"I will," Joe promised. "Then...no more."  
  
"I'm sorry, Joe," Frank said on the way home. "I never suspected Sorrel would get that close to you."  
  
"Why are you sorry?" Joe demanded. "It wasn't your fault. Any leads?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
"One," Frank replied, frowning. "Joe..when you searched the museum, didn't you find anything that might link Sorrel to the theft?" he asked, thinking about the card the police had found.  
  
"No," Joe answered, not picking up on the hesitancy in his brother's voice. "Anyway, he didn't take it."  
  
"You can't be sure," Frank objected, not liking the way Joe was taking up for Sorrel.   
  
"I asked him," Joe confessed.  
  
"You are insane!" Frank shouted.   
  
"Chill!" ordered Joe, leaning over and tapping the speedometer that had increased by ten miles during Frank's outburst. Frank slowed down and Joe continued. "HE wants to give the Renoir to his mother," he informed Frank. "And he says he does not give stolen merchandise to his family."  
  
"And you believed him?" Frank demanded.  
  
"Yes, I do," Joe answered without batting an eye. "Besides," he added. "Sorrel wants us to find the Renoir and return it so he can buy it."  
  
Frank bit his bottom lip so hard he winced. "Con found Sorrel's card at the museum in the room where the Renoir was last night," he confided.  
  
"Then it is an inside job," observed Joe. "Because there was no card when I searched the place."  
  
Frank shook his head. Joe was being way too trusting but then, he realized, if someone had planted the card then whoever did it had to know about Sorrel's interest in the painting.  
  
"What's Callie doing here?" Joe asked, interrupting Frank's thoughts.  
  
"She drove the van here," Frank explained. "I'll run her home. Will you be all right alone? Mom decided to spend the night with Mrs. Palmer."  
  
"Sure," Joe replied. "See you later," he added, getting out of the car and holding the door open until Callie arrived and climbed in. "Night you two."  
  
Joe headed into the house, dreading the call he had to make. Deciding to get it over with he picked up the receiver and punched in the number.  
  
"Hello," came a clipped voice from the other end.  
  
"This is Joe Hardy," Joe said.  
  
"Where are you?" demanded Sorrel.  
  
"At home," Joe replied.  
  
"Do you need an attorney?" Sorrel demanded.  
  
"It was just a practical joke instigated by my brother," Joe informed him. "Why are you trying to help me anyway?" he continued. "If I were in trouble, you could use it as a reason to forbid Marie to see me. She would understand."  
  
"You began dating my daughter," Sorrel explained. "That makes you a member of my family and I take care of my own."  
  
"I don't." Joe began but Sorrel cut him off.  
  
"We're having a barbeque tomorrow," Sorrel continued, ignoring Joe's interruption. "Be here no later than two." Not waiting for an answer, Sorrel hung up.  
  
Joe set the receiver down and went into the living room. Sitting down on the sofa, he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
The next morning Joe walked into the living room to find Frank hanging up the telephone. "That was Mr. Benson," Frank informed Joe. "I asked if anyone else had been interested in the Renoir."  
  
"Is there?" Joe asked, relieved. He now had a little time to stall before telling Frank about the barbeque. Joe knew he was going to go ballistic and while he didn't blame him, he didn't look forward to it either.  
  
"A couple of people," Frank replied. "Karen Lynne and Aaron Terrence."  
  
"Who do you want to check out first?" Joe asked.  
  
"Let's talk to the owner first," Frank decided after giving it some thought.  
  
"Got his address?" inquired Joe.  
  
"Yes," Frank said. "And more," he added, grinning. "I got a lot of information yesterday." Frank ran upstairs while Joe foraged in the kitchen for some pop tarts.  
  
"I pulled this info off the net," Frank said, entering the kitchen as Joe pulled two boxed orange juices from the refrigerator. He handed Frank one and a pack of pop tarts then took the papers Frank was offering him. The boys devoured their makeshift breakfast before heading outside.  
  
Outside, Joe climbed into the passenger side of the van and buckled up. While Frank drove, Joe went through the papers. "You really did your homework," Joe complimented Frank, seeing the reports on all the museum personnel who had the opportunity to filch the painting.  
  
"Yeah, but none of them seem the type to do this sort of thing," Frank said. He had gone over the printouts last night after returning home and finding Joe already in bed fast asleep.  
  
Joe looked at the papers again. Frank was right. The most telling thing on any one of them was a speeding ticket. "This is why you called Benson," Joe guessed. "To see if there were any more suspects."  
  
"Right," affirmed Frank. "Sorrel, Lynne and Terrance."  
  
"And, of course, Philip Langley," Joe added. "It wouldn't be the first time someone has "stolen" their own stuff for the insurance."   
  
"Not bad, Baby Brother," Frank stated, grinning. "I had forgotten that was a possibility. We'll have to see if Langley or the museum gets the money if something happens to the painting."  
  
"Either way, Langley would win," Joe pointed out. "The Renoir is on loan, which means the museum would have to reimburse him if anything happened to it."  
  
Frank turned off the highway and onto a side street. Three miles and one more turn brought them to the address he had gotten from the museum's curator earlier.   
  
"Wait up," Frank said after he had parked the van and Joe prepared to alight. "I want to call Sam and have him check out the insurance on the painting first." He pulled out his cell phone and put through a call to Sam Radley, an operative of his father's and a first class investigator in his own right. Sam promised to check it out and call Frank back but warned him it might be the next day before he could get the information since it was Sunday.  
  
"Not much of a place for someone who owns one of the most valuable paintings in existence," Joe commented as he and Frank made their way up the concrete walk to the modest brick ranch-style house which was obviously in need of repair.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," agreed Frank. The boys reached the front door and Joe pushed the doorbell. Almost a minute later, the door opened to reveal a man in his late twenties with green eyes, brown hair and a brown mustache. He was roughly three inches shorter than Frank but solidly built.  
  
"May I help you?" the man inquired, lifting a bushy brow.  
  
"My name is Frank Hardy and this is my brother Joe. Mr. Benson has asked us to locate the missing Renoir," Frank identified himself and Joe.  
  
"Of course," Langley said, stepping aside so they could enter. "Ralph said he had obtained the service of a couple of private investigators when he informed me of the theft. But, to be honest, I expected you to be older."  
  
"We may be young, but we do know what we're doing," Frank assured the man, trying hard to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. He, and Joe, were getting really tired of having to prove themselves. "Joe and I have been solving mysteries for quite some time."  
  
"Hardy, you say?" Langley asked as their last name finally registered. "You aren't related to Fenton Hardy by any chance?"  
  
"He's our father," Joe replied.  
  
"In that case, I won't worry about your ages," Langley said, smiling. "I'm sure your father has trained you well otherwise he wouldn't allow you to do this sort of thing."  
  
"You know our father?" Joe asked.  
  
"No," Langley replied. "But I doubt there's anyone of the East Coast who hasn't at least heard of him. Come in," he continued, leading the two into a comfortable living area. "Have a seat," he added, waving to the sofa covered by an afghan and a couple of throw pillows.  
  
"Thank you, Sir," Frank said, taking a seat with Joe. Langley sat down in a nearby chair. "We wanted to ask you a few questions."  
  
"Of course," Langley agreed to the request.  
  
"Has anyone approached you about purchasing the Renoir?" Frank asked.  
  
"Not directly, no," Langley answered. "There have been three offers but all three were through the museum."  
  
"Would you be willing to sell if a proper offer presented itself?" Joe inquired, thinking of Sorrel.  
  
"Actually, I would gladly get rid of the thing," Langley said, surprising both boys. "As you can tell, I could use the money. However, my grandfather is the one who arranged the loan to the museum and although we, I now that my father has passed away, retain ownership, the museum controls it," he added, his expression sour. "My grandfather arranged it so the painting could not be sold except by mutual agreement."  
  
"So it is possible to sell the painting?" Frank asked.  
  
"It would be if the museum's board of directors would agree, however, they chose not to when my father wished to sell and they refuse to allow its sale now," Langley responded, obviously angry.  
  
They chatted for a bit longer then Joe looked at his watch and stood up. "Thank you for talking to us," he said politely.  
  
"It's been my pleasure," Langley returned as he and Frank rose. "Don't hesitate to call on me if I can be of any further service."  
  
"Thank you," Frank said, shaking his hand. He and Joe left Langley's and climbed back into the van.  
  
"Nice enough guy," Joe commented once they were under way.  
  
"Yeah," Frank agreed, frowning. Something was bothering him but he couldn't put his finger on it.  
  
"Earth to Frank," Joe said a moment later.  
  
"Huh? Oh, sorry Joe," Frank apologized. He shook his head to clear it. "I feel sorry for Langley," he said. "To own something like that and not be able to sell it when you need the money."  
  
"Sounds like a motive to me," Joe responded. "He could have taken the painting so he could sell it."  
  
"True," agreed Frank. "And we still don't know who gets the insurance if the painting can't be found."  
  
"Hey!" Joe shouted, his eyes widening as the wheel suddenly jerked in Frank's hands.  
  
Frank held fast as the car went into a spin. Joe glanced out the window and caught his breath, another few feet and they would be off the road and tumbling down the ravine. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Frank fought for control of the van. He steered into the spin, applying the brakes as gently as he dared. When the van finally stopped, he was sweating. He looked over at a white faced Joe who was staring out his own window. "I'm getting out on your side," Joe said, his voice low.  
  
Frank eased his door open and got out, holding the door open while Joe climbed over the gearshift to join him. Releasing the door, Frank walked to the rear of the van. Before looking at the van, he saw why Joe had not wanted to exit the passenger side. One more foot and the van would have been in the air.  
  
"It's been shot out," Joe said, bending down to look at the rear tire. He looked up at Frank. "It must have been Langley," he said. "No one else knew we would be out this way."  
  
"It couldn't have been him," Frank disagreed. "He wouldn't have had time to get ahead of us."  
  
"An accomplice?" Joe suggested. "He could have called someone while you were calling Sam in the drive."  
  
"Or someone could have been following us," Frank pointed out. "Come on, let's get the tire changed." He grinned. "I'm just glad it's on the driver's side."  
  
"Uh, Frank," Joe began as they neared home.  
  
"What?" Frank asked, glancing at his suddenly nervous brother.  
  
"I have a date," Joe said, closing his eyes as he waited for the inevitable blow-up.   
  
Frank remained silent. Thinking it was safe, Joe opened his eyes and looked at his brother. Frank was gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white. "I thought you said you hadn't made any plans to see Marie again," Frank finally spoke, his tightly drawn face belying the calmness of his tone.  
  
"I didn't," Joe said. "But when I called Sorrel last night he ordered me to be at his house for a barbeque this afternoon."  
  
"You can't go," Frank told him.  
  
"I don't think I have a choice," Joe argued. "If I don't go, I have the feeling Sorrel will send someone to get me and if that happened mom would be worried out of her mind."  
  
"I don't want mom to worry either," Frank agreed with him on the one point. "But if someone does come after you, we can call the police."  
  
"And have the Mafia after us for turning in one of their own just because I refused to attend a cookout. Yeah, let's do that. Mom won't worry that way," Joe ended sarcastically.  
  
Frank opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. Joe was right. He was in a no-win situation. "When does Marie go back to England?" he asked.  
  
"A week from Tuesday," Joe answered. "I can tough it out that long. Certainly I won't be expected to go out on a school night."  
  
"When do you have to be there?" Frank asked.  
  
"Two."  
  
"I'll take you," Frank stated.  
  
"No," Joe declined. "Then I wouldn't have a way home. Don't worry," he added, reaching over and putting a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I'll be okay."  
  
"In a den of vipers?" Frank retorted a bit too loudly. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, keeping his other hand firmly on the steering wheel. "You will be all right," he said, hoping if he said it, he might believe it.   
  
The two finished the trip home in silence. Since it was already a quarter after one, Joe went straight for his motorcycle with Frank following at his heels. "I'm going over to Callie's after I run a background on Terrance and Lynne but I'll keep my cell phone on me. Be sure and call if you even feel like you might be getting into something."  
  
"I will," Joe promised.  
  
"When will you be home?" Frank asked.  
  
"By eight at the latest," Joe said. Frank nodded and moved away as Joe mounted the cycle and took off.  
  
Frank started back to the house but changed his mind before reaching the front step. He was too upset and worried to sit at a monitor all afternoon. He returned to the van, jumped in and drove over to his girlfriend's.  
  
"Hey," Callie greeted him as she opened the door at his knock. "You're early," she said.  
  
"I didn't feel like being alone," Frank told her. "Want to hit Mr. Pizza's for lunch?"  
  
"I've already eaten," she told him. "But I'll keep you company." Frank smiled gratefully. "Let me tell my folks."  
  
Twenty minutes later, Frank and Callie entered Mr. Pizza and joined some of their friends at one of the tables. "Where's Joe?" Biff asked, asked Frank and Callie sat down.  
  
"He's at Marie's," Frank informed him.  
  
"That's great," Chet said.  
  
"Yeah, why so down?" asked Tony who had come over to take their order. "We wanted Joe to go out."  
  
"But not with Cooper Sorrel's daughter," Frank dropped the bombshell.  
  
"Who is Cooper Sorrel?" Helen asked, her green eyes curious.  
  
"The Mafia boss," Phil answered in awe.  
  
"Does Joe know?" Chet asked.  
  
"He knows," Frank said. "He tried to break it off but Sorrel insisted Joe date her until she goes back to boarding school." He shook his head. "I'm so scared he'll go over there and won't come back." 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
A man with straight black hair, combed neatly to the left opened the door at Marie's. Roxton, Joe remembered the name Marie had used for the butler. "I'm expected," Joe said.  
  
"Indeed," Roxton said, the smile on his lips reaching his gray eyes and causing them to twinkle with ill-concealed amusement. Glad he thinks this situation is funny, Joe fumed silently as he was admitted inside.  
  
"This way," Roxton instructed, turning around and leaving Joe to follow.  
  
Wonder what other duties he performs? Joe thought, looking at the man in front of him who was easily four inches taller than Joe and almost twice as broad, although Joe could see no sign of fat anywhere.  
  
Roxton led Joe through the living room and out the patio door. "Joe Hardy," Roxton announced his presence.  
  
A sudden stillness registered as most of the men present turned to stare at Joe. Cooper Sorrel approached Joe with a smile. "Joseph, glad you could make it," he greeted the youth.  
  
Joe returned the smile with a strained one as Marie came up to Joe and took his right arm. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Come on," she said. "I want you to meet everyone."  
  
As Marie introduced Joe around, several of the men went to Sorrel and demanded an explanation. "Calm yourselves, gentlemen," Sorrel instructed in an affable tone. "Joe is dating my daughter."  
  
"Don't you know who is father is?" demanded Ike Nelson, Cooper's brother-in-law and lawyer.  
  
"Fenton Hardy," Sorrel answered, smiling.   
  
"And you're okay with that?" Nelson pushed.  
  
"Can you think of a better way to keep Fenton Hardy from getting involved in an investigation of our activities?" Sorrel countered.  
  
"Wait a minute," Clint Squire interrupted. "You mean you want Joe Hardy to become part of the family?"  
  
"That is exactly what I intend," Sorrel asserted. "Marie's meeting Joe was perfect. I couldn't have planned it better."  
  
"But she's going back to England in a little over a week," Nelson reminded him.  
  
"Maybe not," Sorrel replied, looking at the way Marie and Joe were holding each other.  
  
"I'm glad you came," Marie told Joe after she had managed to pull Joe away from her Aunt Denise.  
  
"Me too," Joe replied, smiling down into her eyes. It's not fair! I really like her! Joe thought as he pushed a strand of hair from her face, unaware he and Marie were the focus of attention at the male pow-wow. "I wish you went to Bayport High," he continued wistfully. "Then I could see those angelic eyes everyday."  
  
Marie blushed and looked at him through her thick lashes. "Would you like to see the rest of the house?" she asked. "I know you've seen pretty much everything out here."  
  
"Sure," agreed Joe. Marie took his hand and led him back toward the house.  
  
"And where are you two off to?" Sorrel asked as the youths neared the door.  
  
"I want to show Joe around," Marie said. "Is that all right?"  
  
"Of course," Sorrel agreed at once. "But don't be too long. We'll be starting dinner soon."  
  
"We won't," Marie promised, pulling Joe inside.  
  
"They do seem to like each other," Nelson commented.  
  
"And unlike the original Romeo and Juliet, the Capulets seem to want this Romeo around," Piers commented.  
  
***  
  
When the couple returned to the group everyone moved into the backyard where Roxton had started the grill. Nelson was put in charge and Sorrel wandered over to Joe's side. "Have you had any luck in locating the Renoir?" he asked as several other guests joined them.  
  
"No," Joe replied. "But I have found out why the owner won't sell to you."  
  
"Oh?" Sorrel asked, raising an interested eyebrow.  
  
"Actually, it's more along the line of he can't sell," Joe corrected his earlier comment. "The owner said he would love to sell the painting but according to the contract with the museum, the board of directors has to agree to sell as well."  
  
"Excellent," Sorrel said, slapping Joe lightly on the back. "I have been talking to the wrong person. Thank you."  
  
"Don't mention it," Joe acknowledged with a smile.  
  
"What a strange place to park a motorcycle!" exclaimed one of two women who were coming to join the party. They had gone inside to the restroom and saw the motorcycle as they passed the front window.  
  
"Pardon?" Joe asked, surprised. His had been the only bike there that he had noticed.  
  
"It was in the middle of the street," the woman informed everyone.  
  
Joe and some of the other guests leapt to their feet and raced around the house. Sure enough, his motorcycle was standing in the middle of the road.  
  
Frowning, Joe started towards it to see if anyone had done anything to it. As he neared the bike, a car came racing around the bend. Joe looked up in time to see the car heading straight for him. He turned away from the bike and ran for safer ground; sure this had been the reason why his bike was in the road. The car veered from its original path and chased after Joe, increasing its speed. Joe's legs pumped faster but would he reach the safety behind the brick fence in time? 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Thirteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Marie screamed as Joe made a nosedive behind the brick wall. The car clipped the side of the brick, knocking a chunk out before speeding down the street out of sight.  
  
"Joe! Are you all right?" Marie demanded as she raced to him.  
  
Joe picked himself up off the ground and swiped at the spots of dirt that clung to him. "I'm fine," he assured her.  
  
"Dad," Marie said, turning to her father with worried eyes. "Maybe he should see a doctor. Look, he's bleeding," she added, turning back to Joe.  
  
Joe looked at his upper left arm where a small bit of blood was trickling from a cut. He pulled out the bandana he normally kept tucked in his pocket and pressed it against the wound. "It's no biggie," Joe insisted. "This kind of stuff happens all the time."  
  
"You get hurt all the time," Marie said in mock sincerity. "Please."  
  
"Seriously," Joe said. "This is nothing. Just a scratch."  
  
"Which could become infected," Sorrel stated, frowning.  
  
"Not with all the tetanus shots I've had this year," Joe disagreed, shaking his head ruefully. "I've been shot and stabbed; not to mention being in a wreck or two." Instead of appeasing Marie this only served to make her more apprehensive.  
  
"It goes with the territory," he told Marie. "But I'm tough. I'm still here," he added softly as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.  
  
Sorrel ordered one of the men to retrieve Joe's bike that had managed to survive any harm during the escapade. Marie led Joe inside followed by most of the other guests. Sorrel, Piers and a few other men remained outside to talk.  
  
***  
  
When Joe arrived home that night, he found his brother just exiting their father's office. "I thought you were going into research mode earlier today," Joe said, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
Frank shrugged. "I decided to see Callie first," he said. Frank's sharp brown eyes saw the fresh cut on Joe's shoulder. "What happened to you?" he demanded.  
  
Joe told him about the incident involving his motorcycle. "It could have been someone at the cookout," Frank commented, frowning.  
  
"Doubtful," Joe disagreed. "Less than half of the guests seemed to know what Sorrel really does.  
  
"I still think you should avoid them," Frank said.  
  
"Can't," Joe said, shaking his head. "Tomorrow is Marie's birthday. I've been invited to attend a dinner party."  
  
"You have school," Frank argued, stubbornly.  
  
"It's not until seven," Joe said. "I can skip lunch to pick her out a gift. After school, we will still have a few hours to work on the case before I have to be there."  
  
"Fine," Frank replied tight-lipped. He could almost swear Joe sounded happy with the plan. "Come on into my room and I'll tell you what I learned about Kyle Terrance."  
  
"What about that Lynne woman?" Joe asked following Frank into his room. He sat down on Frank's bed while Frank looked through a bureau drawer for some pajamas.  
  
"She's a no-go," Frank answered. "She was attempting to purchase it for the Smithsonian."  
  
"Terrance is an avid art collector," Frank began. "His collection is worth one point four billion dollars."  
  
Joe gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of money."  
  
"Too much," Frank continued. "If you take away his art collection his net worth is just a little over a million dollars."  
  
"I'd hate to have all my money tied up in art," Joe commented. "You think he might have taken the painting because he couldn't afford to increase his offer?"  
  
"It's a distinct possibility," Frank affirmed.  
  
"So we have two suspects," Joe stated. "Terrance and Langley."  
  
"Three," Frank corrected stonily. "You forgot Sorrel."  
  
"Fine," Joe agreed in exasperation. "Three. But I think we're wasting our time with Sorrel."  
  
***  
  
After school the next afternoon, Frank and Joe headed toward Bridgeport where Terrance lived. "What did you get Marie for her birthday?" Frank asked, his eyes flitting to his side mirror for the tenth time in the past five minutes.  
  
"I found her a necklace on sale," Joe replied. "It's an hourglass filled with diamond dust. And what are you doing?" he ended, grabbing the dashboard to steady himself as Frank made a sharp right.  
  
"We're being followed," Frank answered.  
  
Joe swiveled around to look in his side mirror. "Which one?"  
  
"Black SUV," Frank answered. "Three cars back."  
  
"Got it," Joe said, narrowing his focus. "I can't get a fix on the driver."  
  
"Hang on," Frank ordered. "I'm going to lose him." Frank made a series of turns that soon had Joe losing his bearings.  
  
"I don't see the SUV anymore," Joe said.  
  
"Good."  
  
Joe looked around. "Do you know where we are?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Frank admitted with a grin. "One more turn and we're back where we started," he said. Frank made the required turn left turn and the two continued their trip.  
  
Frank pulled the van to a stop in front of a modest two-story house. "This is it?" Joe asked, raising an eyebrow. "Langley's place looked better."  
  
Frank agreed but never spoke as he followed Joe from the van and up to the front door. Joe was just about to knock when a heavy pitter-patter could be heard from their left. The boys turned toward the sound.  
  
"Oh no," groaned Joe, preparing himself for a struggle while Frank stood frozen, his brown eyes wide in horror as two large German Shepherds came barreling at them. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Part of the Family   
  
Chapter Fourteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Oof!" Joe groaned as one of the dogs leapt on him and he fell onto the porch beneath the weight.  
  
"Stop! Heel!" Frank shouted as he tried to keep his head away from the monster's mouth.  
  
Joe began laughing and gave up the fight as the dog slavered all over him. "At least....at least they're friendly," he gasped.  
  
"Oh, dear," came an amused voice. "Pooh! Tigger!" the man called out, coming closer. He latched onto the collar of the dog nearest him and tugged. "Come on, Pooh," he begged. "Let the young man get up."  
  
"Pooh and Tigger?" Frank asked, rising to his feet and going to help Joe with the other shepherd.   
  
"Their master owns a toy store," the man explained as Joe managed to get to his feet. "He takes them to work with him everyday and lets them have the run of the place."  
  
"That would explain why they're so friendly to strangers," Frank said. "But how did you get them?"  
  
"Their owner is my best friend," the man explained. "He went on a vacation to Europe but didn't want Pooh and Tigger to have to stay in a kennel while he was gone so I'm babysitting."  
  
"Cool," Joe said, petting Tigger.  
  
"Now, may I ask you a question?" the man said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Who are you?"  
  
"Sorry," Frank apologized. "My name is Frank Hardy and this is my brother, Joe," he introduced himself and brother. "We were looking for Kyle Terrance."  
  
"You found him," Terrance replied, looking at the two curiously.  
  
"We understand you were interested in purchasing the Renoir from the Bayport Museum," Frank began.  
  
"How did you find out?" Terrance asked, tilting his copper topped head sideways as he narrowed his gaze at Frank.  
  
"Mr. Benson mentioned you had made an offer," Frank informed him.  
  
"So you think you two can steal it and I'll buy it from you?" Terrance demanded, his eyes growing as hard as his voice.  
  
"No," Joe quickly denied. "The Renoir was stolen Friday night," he informed the collector. "Mr. Benson asked us to find it."  
  
"Why?" Terrance demanded. "You're kids."  
  
"We are also experienced detectives," Frank replied, smothering a sigh. He should be used to the prejudice held because of his and Joe's ages but he wasn't.   
  
"And you came to me because?" Terrance demanded.  
  
"We have to check out everyone who showed an interest," Frank replied truthfully.  
  
"Was anything else taken?" Terrance inquired curiously.  
  
"No," Frank answered. "May we ask you a few questions?"  
  
"You may," Terrance replied. "But perhaps I can save us all some time," he continued. "For starters, the offer I made was not monetary. I proposed to trade a couple of pieces from my collection for the Renoir."  
  
"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Joe asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.  
  
"Only if you don't get upset if I choose not to answer," Terrance replied.  
  
"Why do you have so much invested in art?" Joe asked.  
  
"You have done your homework," Terrance congratulated the youths with a smile. "Art appreciates in value," he began. "I believe it is an infinitely safer investment than stocks."  
  
"So collecting art is merely an investment?" Frank queried.  
  
Terrance gave an affirmative nod. "And stealing the painting wouldn't do you any good because you wouldn't be able to sell it?" Joe asked.  
  
"There is the black market," Terrance pointed out. "There are collectors who don't care where their new acquisitions come from."  
  
"But you aren't one of those," Frank observed, respecting the man's candor. He had liked the man on sight and after listening to him and reading his facial expressions as he spoke, Frank was sure Terrance had not stolen anything, let alone the Renoir.  
  
"No, I am not," agreed Terrance. "If you would care to view my collection, it could be arranged," he offered.  
  
"You keep it here?" Joe asked, an incredulous expression on his face.  
  
"No," Terrance denied. "It is actually kept at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. They get to use my collection as a drawing piece and I have the piece of mind knowing it is under one of the most advanced security systems in the country."  
  
"Don't you keep any art at home?" Joe asked.  
  
"Museum replicas only," Terrance answered. "But you are welcome to come inside and see for yourself."  
  
"That won't be necessary," Frank declined. "But thank you for the offer and for taking time to talk with us," he added, holding out his hand.  
  
Terrance gave each boy a firm handshake and bid them goodbye. "I don't think he's involved," Joe said as he climbed into the driver's seat of the van.  
  
"Me either," Frank agreed, frowning.  
  
"What's wrong?" Joe demanded.  
  
"The black SUV," Frank answered. "It's parked across the street."  
  
"I'll swing by so you can get the tag number," Joe said as he started the motor. As he pulled onto the road, the SUV roared to life. As Joe passed it, Frank memorized the tag number.  
  
"Let's see if you can lose it," Frank challenged.  
  
Joe grinned and headed back to Bayport. Three exits before their normal turn, Joe pulled over two lanes, cutting a white Subaru and a green Toyota off to take the turn.  
  
"Are you crazy?" Frank demanded when Joe finally pulled to a stop behind a closed gas station.  
  
"We lost them, didn't we?" Joe retorted.  
  
"Out!" Frank ordered. "I'm driving."  
  
"Fine," Joe agreed. "You can drop me off at Marie's."  
  
"How will you get home?" Frank asked.  
  
"Pick me up at 9:30?" Joe asked. Frank nodded his agreement and drove Joe to Sunset Drive. After Joe had gone inside, Frank headed to the museum where he found Benson on his way out.  
  
"How is the investigation coming along?" Benson asked.  
  
"We've narrowed it down," Frank answered.  
  
"To?" Benson wanted to know.  
  
"Cooper Sorrel or Steve Langley," Frank said. "How well do you know Langley?"  
  
"Not very," Benson replied, frowning. "He owns the painting. Why ever would he steal it?" he asked, confused.  
  
"The insurance, maybe," Frank said. "We're looking into it now."  
  
"Where's Joe?" Benson asked, looking about.  
  
"At Sorrel's," Frank answered without elaborating. He glanced at his watch. "I'd better run," he said. "I have to run by the police station before I go home."  
  
"Take care," Benson said with a smile as Frank waved and walked back to the van.  
  
Frank arrived at the station twenty minutes later. "Hi," Officer Riker greeted Frank as he approached. "Anything new?"  
  
Frank shook his head. "Well, a little," he confessed. "Can you see who owns a black SUV with the tag NPH-4113? It's been following us."  
  
Riker picked up the phone as Frank took a seat. Five minutes later, Riker hung up. "Is Joe still hanging out with Sorrel's daughter?"  
  
"Unfortunately," Frank replied sourly. "Why?"  
  
"The car is owned by Wyatt Import/Export," Riker informed Frank. "The company is owned by Cooper Sorrel."  
  
Frank drove home not really paying attention to his surroundings. Sorrel was behind the theft and Joe was in his lair. It made sense. Sorrel wanted Joe around so he could keep tabs on the investigation. Frank knew Joe wouldn't willingly give any info on the case but Sorrel could have tricked Joe into revealing what was going on. Frank looked at his watch: 8:30. He knew the next hour would be one of the longest in his life.  
  
***  
  
Marie met Joe in the hallway. "Happy birthday," he told her in a husky whisper before she put her lips to his.  
  
The two broke apart three minutes later at the sound of a throat clearing. "Mm, sorry," Joe mumbled, blushing a little.  
  
"Nothing wrong with a birthday kiss," Nelson said, smiling at the two. "But Cooper sent me to find Marie so perhaps we should all go into the living room?" he ended with a raised brow.  
  
"Oh, here," Joe said as he and Marie followed Nelson at a slow pace. He handed Marie the gift he had bought her.  
  
She stopped walking and began to open her package. "Don't you want to wait?" Joe asked with some amusement. She obviously liked getting gifts as much as he did.  
  
"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. She finished unwrapping it and gave the paper to Joe. Both were unaware Nelson had reached the living room alone and Sorrel had decided to find the two teens.  
  
Sorrel came to a stop as Marie opened the jewelry box. Marie's eyes widened and she gave a faint gasp of delight. "Oh Joe," she said, her eyes capturing his. "It's beautiful."  
  
Joe smiled as she removed the necklace from its box. "Put it on for me?" she asked, handing it to him and turning around.  
  
Joe shoved the paper into his pocket and took the necklace. He lifted it over her neck then waited while she tilted her head and moved her hair to one side. "Done," he said letting the chain go. His fingers brushed her neck as he dropped his hands.  
  
"An hourglass," she said, looking at it. "You do know what this particular necklace stands for, don't you?" she asked.  
  
"Eternity," Joe answered. "That's how long you're going to possess my heart," he added, leaning down to kiss her as Sorrel slipped away unnoticed.  
  
***  
  
"I'm going to get Joe now," Frank told his mom at five after nine.  
  
"Okay dear," she said, heading for the phone which had started to ring as Frank exited the door.  
  
Frank pulled the driver's door open but froze before getting inside when he heard his mother open the door. "Your father's on the phone!" she yelled at him. Frank headed back to the house, shoving the van's door to as he moved.  
  
As the door connected to the van, there was an explosion and Frank was lifted off his feet and propelled against the steps. As the van burned bright, Frank lay unmoving. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Fifteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Frank!" Laura screamed, rushing to his side.  
  
Frank moaned and started to rise but Laura applied gentle pressure to his shoulder. "Stay still, honey," she ordered. "I'll call an ambulance."  
  
"No," Frank said, turning his head to look up at her with a faint smile. "I just got the wind knocked out of me, but I'm all right."  
  
"Laura! Frank!" shouted Tom Anderson, one of their neighbors, as he came running up to them. "Were either of you hurt?"  
  
"No," Laura replied, although she did cast a glance at Frank as he got to his feet.  
  
"I called 911," Tom told them just before the sound of sirens ripped the night air. "Is there anything else I can do?"  
  
"No," Laura answered. "But thank you."  
  
"Mr. Anderson," Frank said before the man could leave. "You didn't by any chance see anyone around the van in the past half an hour or so, did you?"  
  
"Afraid not," Tom answered before returning to his own home.  
  
"Frank!" Laura exclaimed, remembering why she had stopped him in the first place. "Your father's on the phone. He wanted to talk to you."  
  
Frank rushed inside and picked up the phone. "Dad?"  
  
"Son! Are you all right? What happened? I heard an explosion," Fenton exclaimed in a frantic voice.  
  
"Relax," Frank said. "Mom and I are both okay. Someone put a bomb in the van," he explained. "I guess it was triggered when the door closed. It was a good thing you wanted to talk to me," he ended, realizing how close he had been to being in the van.  
  
"I was going to start another case but maybe I should come home instead," Fenton said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.  
  
Frank opened his mouth to tell him it wasn't necessary then remembered where Joe was. "If you could, it would probably be for the best," Frank said finally.  
  
"What's wrong?" Fenton demanded, picking up on the concern in Frank's tone.  
  
"I'll tell you when you get home," Frank promised. "But you aren't going to like it," he added.  
  
"Tell me now," Fenton commanded.  
  
"No," Frank refused. "You really need to take this one sitting down."  
  
"Fine," Fenton said in defeat. "I'll be home by the day after tomorrow," he promised. "It will take me that long to tie up the loose ends on this case," he explained before hanging up.  
  
Frank dialed the Sorrel's number and asked to speak to Joe. "Joe, I'm going to be a little late picking you up," Frank said when Joe came on the line. "Will you be all right?"  
  
"I'll be fine," Joe replied, frowning. Roxton had brought the phone into the living room so Joe had to be careful of what he said. "Why?"  
  
"Someone planted a bomb in the van," Frank said. "It went off when the door was shut."  
  
"Are you all right? Mom?" Joe demanded his face ashen.  
  
"What's wrong?" Marie demanded. Joe held up a hand to silence her so he could hear Frank.  
  
"Dad called and wanted to speak to me as I was getting ready to leave," Frank explained. "I pushed the door shut as I headed back in. Mom and I are both fine but the van is a write-off."  
  
"Forget the van!" Joe snapped. "Look, don't worry about me. I'll take a cab. I know you'll have to wait for the police and file a report."  
  
"No need," Nelson said. "I'll drop you off, that is, if you don't mind waiting until around eleven to leave?"  
  
"Thank you," Joe accepted the offer, concern for his brother robbing him of his common sense. "Just stay put," he said to Frank. "I'll be home a little after eleven."  
  
"Joe..." Frank's voice held a hint of alarm and a heavy dose of concern as he began to object but his mother opened the door and told him the police were there.  
  
Hearing his mom, Joe quickly told Frank goodbye and hung up. "What happened?" Marie demanded.  
  
Joe told everyone assembled about the bomb. "Oh, no," Marie gasped. "You seemed so proud of that van."  
  
"I was," Joe admitted. "I did most of the customizing."  
  
***  
  
Frank was sitting on the porch swing when a navy blue Lexus pulled into the driveway. He watched as Joe opened the passenger door and got out. He was more than a little angry when he heard Joe laughing before bidding the driver goodnight.  
  
Joe walked up to the steps as the car backed out and drove away. "Oh, hey," Joe said, catching sight of Frank. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned when he saw a particularly nasty cut along Frank's jaw from where he had hit the steps when the bomb exploded.  
  
"Do you care?" Frank snapped.  
  
"What is your problem?" Joe demanded at the affront.  
  
"My problem is that you're hanging out with the people who just tried to kill me!" Frank shouted.  
  
"Keep your voice down," Joe hissed. "You want to wake the whole neighborhood? And for the record," he continued angrily, "you have no proof that it was Sorrel's men who planted the bomb. In case you had forgotten, we do have another suspect."  
  
"You're just so wrapped up in Sorrel's daughter you can't see what's staring you in the face!" Frank accused him. "I honestly believe you care more about her than you do me!"  
  
"At least she doesn't demand I choose!" Joe retorted, turning around and going inside, leaving Frank standing alone in the stale night air. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Part of the Family   
  
Chapter Sixteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
When Frank awoke the next morning he went into Joe's room to apologize for his outburst the night before. Joe didn't know it had been one of Sorrel's men following them the previous day and his accusation at Joe had been completely unfounded. He knew in a pinch that Joe would choose him over Marie. Forcing Joe to choose without all the facts was beneath him and Frank felt like an utter heel.  
  
Frank stopped in the doorway of Joe's room in surprise. The bed was rumpled, proving Joe had made it in a hurry, but other than that, there was no evidence Joe had even been here last night.  
  
Frank headed downstairs. "Good morning," Laura said as Frank entered the kitchen. "Sit down," she instructed. "Breakfast is almost ready."  
  
"Where's Joe?" Frank asked, taking a seat.  
  
"He had a bowl of cereal earlier," his mother informed him. "He said he needed to get to school early."  
  
Frank tried to find Joe at school but he kept missing him. He was starting to think that maybe Joe was avoiding him. Can you blame him? his subconscious asked.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?" Callie demanded, catching him with a guilty look on his face.  
  
"What isn't?" Frank replied with a sigh. "The van's gone; Joe's mad at me; and the person who stole the Renoir has Joe in his corner."  
  
"You'll have to explain that one, pal," Phil commented as he, Chet, and Biff joined Frank and Callie at the lunch table.  
  
"Don't take this the wrong way," Phil begged when Frank had finished telling them about what was going on. "But even though we all know a pretty girl can turn Joe's head, he's never allowed that to interfere if he thought her family might be involved in something."  
  
Frank thought back to a case they had solved down south where Joe's girlfriend's father had murdered someone and even lured Joe to the House of Mirrors during a downpour to kill him. Joe still kept in touch with her even though Joe, and he, had given testimony to send him to prison. "I guess it's possible Sorrel could be innocent of this crime," Frank finally admitted.  
  
***  
  
Joe had arrived at school early so he could go to the computer room. Frank was sure Sorrel was guilty but Joe was equally sure he wasn't. Apparently, he was going to have to prove it by finding the real thief. Joe ran a search on Langley. As far as he knew, Langley was their only suspect. Or was he? Joe asked himself. Who had access to the painting besides the guards and cleaning staff? "Benson," Joe said the name out loud.  
  
"Blast it!" Joe cursed a few minutes later. He wasn't getting anywhere. He needed his father's passwords. He logged off and headed for his homeroom.  
  
"Joe!" shouted Mr. Temple as he was heading to lunch three hours later. Joe stopped and turned around. When the path had cleared of the multitude of students, Joe made his way to his trigonometry teacher.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Joe asked.  
  
"Yes," Mr. Temple replied. "I gave a quiz last week and I can't find yours."  
  
"The one on chapter three?" Joe asked.  
  
"That's the one," Temple acknowledged. "I know you were in class that day but..." he spread his hands.  
  
"You want me to take the test again?" Joe asked, frowning.  
  
"I'm afraid so," admitted Temple.  
  
"Maybe it got stuck to one of the other tests," Joe suggested, not wanting to suffer through another exam. "You did have a hard time separating the sheets."  
  
"Would you mind helping me look for it?" Temple asked.  
  
"Beats taking the test again," Joe agreed at once.  
  
"Here it is." Temple called out twenty minutes later. "It was stuck to Shelia's exam. I'm sorry to have put you through this."  
  
"No problem," Joe said, giving the teacher a laid-back smile. Joe departed, thinking it was a miracle Temple didn't lose more exams. Instead of keeping the material separated by classes as he had seen other teachers do, Temple kept an entire week's worth of material for all his classes in a single section. Of course, he was new. Joe had heard Lonnie Temple had just gotten his degree and become certified to teach over the summer. He obviously had some learning of his own to do.  
  
The bell announcing the end of lunch rang and with a grimace, Joe headed for his locker to get the book he needed for his next class.  
  
Joe took his seat in study hall, his last class of the day, and pulled out his trig book. He hated homework and always did his best to get it finished during study hall.  
  
"Hey," whispered Jeff Turner. Joe looked up at his fellow teammate who was leaning toward him while the teacher was talking with one of the students. "Practice is canceled," Jeff told Joe. "I saw the coach twist his ankle before last period."  
  
"Is it a bad sprain?" Joe whispered back.  
  
"Don't know," Jeff replied softly. "But the vice-principal was taking him to the hospital for an X-ray."  
  
"Thanks for letting me know," Joe whispered.  
  
As the class neared its end, the PA system came on with the usual end of the day announcements. The last announcement canceled practice but said it would be held the next day.  
  
Good, Joe thought. I want to talk to Langley about Benson. Joe frowned. He wished Frank weren't mad at him but until he could prove Sorrel didn't steal the painting he doubted Frank would be in a cooperative mood which meant he wouldn't want to follow up on Joe's new suspect. But still, Joe thought. I can't just take off without telling someone where I'm going.  
  
After the final bell rang, Joe headed for the payphone in the cafeteria. He called home and told his mother he was going over to Langley's but would be home in time for dinner.  
  
Laura realized Joe and Frank must have had a falling out but Fenton had always insisted on letting the boys work out their own problems. So, with a heartfelt sigh, Laura told Joe to be careful before hanging up.  
  
Joe rode his bike out to Langley's house but although his car was in the driveway, no one came to the door. Frustrated, Joe returned to his bike and headed home.  
  
Maybe it was a good thing Langley wasn't home, Joe thought as he hit the highway. He really needed Frank to help him with the questioning. Frank could keep him occupied while he looked around. But how am I going to get Frank to stop suspecting Marie's dad long enough to help?  
  
Joe glanced behind him as he heard a car approaching. His eyes widened when he saw the driver wearing a ski mask. Joe pushed his bike to the limit and prayed he could make the next exit before the driver could force him off the road and over the guardrail.  
  
Yes! Joe thought as he took the exit at a steady clip. The pale green coupe slowed as it took the exit ramp giving Joe a little space.  
  
Back on a country road, Joe turned east. If he could reach town, he could lose his attacker, he thought, glancing back. Joe rounded the next curve at high speed. "Oh crap," he muttered as he turned his bike sideways and slid into a roadblock. He had been paying too much attention to his attacker to notice the warning sign before the curve.  
  
The driver of the coupe had slowed down but when Joe tried to sit up the driver decided to finish Joe off. Pinned beneath his bike, Joe watched helplessly as the car came straight at him. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Part of the Family   
  
Chapter Seventeen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
Before the car reached Joe there was a gunshot. The coupe's back windshield shattered and the car spun as the driver changed directions and took off.  
  
The black SUV from the day before came to a stop close to Joe and two men got out. Piers and Maxwell! Sorrel is behind this, Joe thought but quickly realized that couldn't be right because they had just saved his life.  
  
The two men rushed over to Joe and lifted the bike off of him. "Easy, kid," Piers said, taking Joe's chin in his hand and looking in his eyes.  
  
"I'm okay," Joe told him when he realized Piers was looking for signs of a concussion.  
  
"That's why your head's bleeding," Piers commented wryly.  
  
"And his leg," added Maxwell, seeing the blood soaking Joe's jeans around the rip in the fabric.  
  
"Stay put," Piers ordered Joe as he tried to rise. Piers and Maxwell lifted Joe's cycle and put it into the SUV then returned to Joe and picked him up as gently as they could.  
  
"You've been following me," Joe observed. "Why?"  
  
"The boss decided you needed protection after the fiasco at the cookout," Maxwell said with a shrug.  
  
"Great job we did," Piers said with a grimace. "He's going to kill us."  
  
"No he won't," Joe denied. "If you two hadn't shown up when you did, I'd be dead."  
  
"Well, you're in pretty bad shape," Maxwell observed.  
  
"I'll be all right," Joe said. "If you would just drop me off at home, I'd appreciate it."  
  
"Forget it, kid," Piers said. "It's the emergency room for you."  
  
At the hospital Joe's leg was x-rayed and eight miniature stitches administered to the cut on his head and a small bandage placed on top of that. As Joe was wheeled out to the car, Piers took care of the bill.  
  
"I do have insurance, you know," Joe pointed out as Piers climbed into the SUV a few minutes later. Joe knew when his dad found out he was going to blow his top and having the mafia pay his medical expenses was just going to fan the flames.  
  
"It happened on our watch," Piers said. "It's our responsibility. We'll take you home now but we'll get your bike repaired before we return it."  
  
"Thanks," Joe said, leaning back against his seat. His head was hurting and he was smart enough to know arguing wouldn't do any good anyway.  
  
***  
  
"Dad!" Frank shouted in surprise as he parked his motorcycle in the driveway. "When did you get back?"  
  
Fenton waited for Frank to meet him on the porch steps before answering. "Just now," Fenton said, looking at Frank critically to make sure he was all right after yesterday's bombing. "I finished earlier than anticipated." He looked down the road, expecting to see Joe materialize on his bike. "Where's your brother?" he asked.  
  
Frank scowled. "I wish I knew," he said. "I've missed him all day."  
  
"Wasn't he at school?" Fenton demanded, worry clouding his features.  
  
"Yeah," Frank hurriedly reassured his father. "But he left early and skipped lunch. I thought I could catch up with him at practice but it was canceled."  
  
"Maybe he told your mother where he went," Fenton suggested as the two climbed the steps. Frank pulled open the screen door as his father put the key in the lock. They both froze as a black SUV pulled in front of the house and stopped although the motor was left running.  
  
"You going anywhere tonight?" Piers asked Joe as he prepared to exit the vehicle.  
  
"No," Joe answered. "I doubt I'll be doing much of anything until after school tomorrow."  
  
"Good," Piers said. "That'll give us time to drop your bike off at the garage and report in."  
  
"You really don't have to keep following me," Joe tried one more time.  
  
"Don't go there," he was ordered.  
  
"Well, thanks," Joe said, getting out of the car. "For everything," he added before closing the door. He watched them drive away then turned and limped up the walk, freezing when he saw his father and brother at the front door. His dad looked curious but Joe knew it was only because Frank hadn't told him about Sorrel yet; otherwise, he would have the same dumbstruck look on his face Frank now had.  
  
"Joe!" Fenton exclaimed, hurrying down to put an arm around Joe's waist and helping him up the steps. "What happened?" he demanded.  
  
"Someone tried to run me down," Joe explained, aware Frank had unlocked the door and held it open for them although he refused to look at him.  
  
Joe could feel the anger radiating from his brother but, unlike last night, he didn't believe it was directed at him. "How bad are you hurt?" Fenton asked, noticing the sterile bandage and the slight smell of antiseptic on him which meant Joe had already been to the hospital.  
  
"Not too bad," Joe reassured his distraught father. "No concussions or anything. Just a bad headache and a limp for a day or two."  
  
"Who brought you home?" Fenton asked.  
  
"And where's your bike?" Frank spoke.  
  
"They're going to get it fixed and give it back to me," Joe said, hopefully evading his father's question.  
  
"After they tried to run you down?" Frank demanded.  
  
"It wasn't them," Joe said. "They have been following me to make sure I didn't get hurt. They kind of lost me while I was trying to lose the guy chasing me but they reached me before he could finish the job. But since I got hurt while they were supposed to be taking care of me, they made me go to the hospital, paid for it, and are fixing my bike."  
  
Fenton had gone still while Joe talked to Frank. "Who are they and why are they supposed to be taking care of you?" Fenton asked in a deceptively calm tone; the undercurrent of which was not lost on Joe.  
  
"Um....can I sit down and get an aspirin first?" Joe begged.  
  
Fenton gave a curt nod as he helped Joe onto the living room sofa. "Frank, go get your brother an aspirin and some water," he ordered.  
  
Frank went into the kitchen and was back in two minutes. "Mom left a note," he said. "She went to the store," he added, handing Joe the requested items.  
  
"Now," Fenton began in his no-nonsense voice after Joe had finished his water. "I want to know everything."  
  
Joe swallowed, then began the tale with meeting Marie at the museum. Frank started to interrupt to let his father know it was he who had forced Joe to attend and pushed Joe into going out with Marie but one glance from his father and he bit his tongue and sat silently while Joe finished.  
  
Fenton had listened, his face expressionless, to Joe's entire litany. He remained silent even after Joe had stopped speaking. "Dad?" Joe asked hesitantly.  
  
"Go to your room," Fenton rasped, too angry to deal with the issue. Joe opened his mouth to object but Frank shook his head at him. Closing his mouth, Joe got to his feet.  
  
Fenton turned to look at Frank. "Help him up," he ordered, then left the room. He had vowed never to discipline his children when he was angry and right now, he was as mad as he had ever been. And even though most of his anger was directed at Sorrel, he knew if he said anything to Joe now, he would take the burnt of his anger out on his youngest son. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Eighteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Any idea who tried to run you down?" Frank asked as he and Joe made their way upstairs.  
  
"No," Joe answered. "But he was driving a little green coupe and if you see it now, it doesn't have a back windshield."  
  
"I'm sorry," Frank said as the two reached Joe's room. "About last night."  
  
"Forget it," Joe said before Frank could continue.  
  
"Where were you?" Frank asked.  
  
"I went out to Langley's," Joe answered. "I wanted to ask him some questions about Benson."  
  
"The curator?" Frank demanded, his eyes widening in surprise. "Why him?"  
  
"If it wasn't Sorrel or Terrance behind the theft, then I thought it must have been Langley but the more I thought about it, one other person came into my mind," Joe explained. "He had access and we didn't even run a background on him."  
  
"You know, you're right," Frank said thoughtfully, helping Joe onto the bed. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"  
  
"Yes," Joe answered, smiling. "A good night's sleep and I'll be right as rain. That is," Joe scowled, "if dad doesn't kill me."  
  
"Don't worry too much about it," Frank said, trying to comfort his brother. "I know dad is mad but I don't think he's mad at you."  
  
"I hope you're right," Joe said as the phone rang.  
  
"I'd better get that," Frank said. "I think dad went for a walk to cool down."  
  
Frank picked up the receiver. "Frank?" Sam's voice came through after Frank said hello. "Sorry, I didn't get back to you sooner," he apologized. "I had trouble getting through to my contact."  
  
"No problem," Frank assured him.  
  
"There's a five million dollar insurance policy on the Renoir through Lloyds of London," Sam informed Frank. "It's the only policy in existence on the painting and the policyholder is the Bayport Museum although the beneficiary is one Steve Langley."  
  
"Makes sense," Frank said. "The museum gets to keep the painting so they are responsible for it but since Langley owns it he would get the money if something happened to it. Thanks Sam," Frank said. "You've been a great help."  
  
Frank hung up and went back into Joe's room where he found a pajama clad Joe climbing into bed. He told Joe about the insurance policy.  
  
Joe frowned. "I guess it could have been Langley who tried to run me down," he said. "If we could find the car we'd know for sure."  
  
"Have you had dinner yet?" Frank asked, remembering Joe had skipped lunch.  
  
"No," Joe replied. "I'll get something later," he promised, closing his eyes. "I really need a nap.  
  
"Okay," Frank agreed, planning on bringing Joe some soup in a little while. "Sleep well, baby brother," he said softly and turned the light out.  
  
The next morning Joe entered the kitchen and took his seat with some trepidation. His leg was much better and his headache had vanished but he feared the punishment he expected from his father.  
  
Laura set Joe's plate in front of him before taking her own seat. Fenton had told her about Joe last night but, unlike Fenton, she had been extremely angry with Joe for not telling her. She began eating her breakfast without her usual greeting.  
  
Laura had given Frank the same cold shoulder when he had come down to breakfast. He and Joe hadn't told her because they didn't want her to worry but he understood why she was upset. She hated it when things were kept from her, especially when that something involved the welfare of one of her children.  
  
Joe looked from Frank who sat playing with his food to his mother who sat taking small bites and refusing to look at anyone, to his father who was devouring his pancakes like nothing was amiss. "Okay," Joe said, putting both palms down on the table. "Let me have it." Right now, he would take any punishment just as long as things got back to normal.  
  
"How could you?" Laura demanded, glaring at Joe. "You should have told me about Marie's family."  
  
"It's not Marie's fault," Joe retorted defensively. "She doesn't have any idea what her dad is involved in."  
  
"But you do!" Laura shouted angrily. "I know Sorrel insisted you keep dating his daughter," she continued. "Frank told us about it at dinner last night. But you should have let me know when it started. What if she had gotten mad at you? They could have killed you!"  
  
Fenton winced at the last part. What he was about to say would not go over well with his wife but there was no alternative. "Laura's right," Fenton informed his sons. "She should have been told. I should have been told," this last part was said with a frown at Frank.  
  
"I'm sorry," Joe apologized. "It's not that I was trying to keep it from you....either of you....I just didn't want mom upset when there wasn't anything we could do about it."  
  
"But there is," Fenton declared. Laura's gaze went from Joe to her husband and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, attempting to reassure her before he spoke.  
  
"You have to break up with Marie," Fenton declared.  
  
"He can't!" Frank shouted in alarm. "Sorrel...."  
  
"Sorrel will abide by this decision," Fenton stated with certainty. "He can't want Joe and his daughter to be seeing each other any more than we do. You will tell him it was my decision," he ordered Joe.  
  
"She's only going to be in town for another week," Joe protested. "Can't we just...." he broke off at the thunderous expression on his father's face.  
  
"Am I to understand that you want to date Sorrel's daughter?" Fenton demanded his brown eyes locking with Joe's blue ones.  
  
"No," Joe denied causing Frank to momentarily relax. "I want to date Marie. She just happens to be Sorrel's daughter."  
  
Frank groaned and leaned back in his seat. Joe had been getting off easy but if his father's response to Joe's words was any indication that was about to pass.  
  
"A technicality that will be ignored," Fenton spoke slowly and firmly. "You may take your mother's car and go to Sorrel's this morning."  
  
"What about school?" Joe tried to stall.  
  
"When you bring your mother's car back, she will take you to school," Fenton said. "Or perhaps you need me to go with you to Sorrel's?"  
  
"No," Joe said, frowning as he stood up. "I can do it."  
  
"Aren't you going to eat breakfast first?" Laura asked.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Joe replied, leaving.  
  
"Dad," Frank commanded.   
  
"You are just as guilty as Joe is for keeping this from us," Fenton interrupted whatever Frank was about to say.  
  
"But...."  
  
"You should have told me when I called," Fenton snapped. "Finish your breakfast and go to school. Your mother and I will tell you and Joe what your punishment will be this evening."  
  
"Yes, sir," Frank replied, putting the fork full of pancake in his mouth. He swallowed, realizing his mom's usually delicious cooking now tasted like cardboard. He stood up and took his plate to the sink.  
  
Neither Fenton nor Laura spoke, well aware of the reason Frank had lost his appetite. Besides, Laura was anxious for Frank to leave so she could have a few choice words with Fenton for sending Joe to Sorrel's on his own.  
  
***  
  
Joe slowed down as he neared the outskirts of town. He had the feeling he was being followed. Joe reached up to a push a lock of hair from his eyes and his hand brushed the small bandage placed over the stitches. Of course I'm being followed, Joe realized. Not for long, though. He was relieved that he would no longer be under the protection of the mafia but saying goodbye to Marie was still one task he dreaded. Although he had only known her for a few days, he had fallen in love with the twinkle in her eyes and the fierce protectiveness she had displayed for him. If only her father wasn't Sorrel, he knew his parents would have loved her.  
  
Joe's thoughts came to an end when he saw a blue Mercedes along the side of the road. He was surprised to see the museum's curator standing beside it.  
  
Benson looked up as Joe approached and waved his hands in the air to get him to stop. Joe parked the car behind Benson's and got out. "What's wrong?" Joe asked.  
  
"I'm not sure," Benson replied. "I thought rentals were more reliable. I was on my way to work and the car just started jerking. I pulled off to see if I could find anything wrong although, I must admit, I know very little about cars. Anyway, when I tried to start it back up, it wouldn't."  
  
"Let me take a look," Joe offered, going to the front of the car. It sounded like the fuel line to him. "Can you try and start it up?" he asked, looking at the motor.  
  
"Of course," agreed Benson, but instead of complying he hit Joe in the back of the head with a heavy flashlight.  
  
Joe fell forward but didn't lose consciousness. He tried to regain his balance and move but before he could, the flashlight struck him again. Joe fell onto the lukewarm motor unconscious. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Nineteen  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"How long does it take to break up with someone?" Laura fretted. Joe had been gone an hour and still he had not returned. "What if they killed him?"  
  
"Take it easy," Fenton told his wife, trying to take her into his arms but failing as she moved away, glaring.  
  
"Don't you dare tell me to relax," she retorted, her blue eyes spitting fire. "You sent him there. Alone!"  
  
"He's been there several times," Fenton reminded her. Laura never said anything. She just crossed her arms and tapped her foot.  
  
"If he's not home in thirty more minutes, I'll go over there," Fenton promised even though he knew his reception would leave much to be desired.  
  
Thirty more minutes passed by and even Fenton was starting to worry. He headed for the front door. "I'm coming too," Laura asserted, following him.  
  
"No," he replied. "Stay here and..." he broke off as the phone rang. "Maybe that's Joe," he said, snatching the receiver. "Hello?"  
  
"Fenton," Chief Collig's voice came over the line. "Is Laura there?"  
  
"Yes," Fenton answered. "Why?"  
  
"We just found her car abandoned near Sunset Drive," Collig answered.  
  
Laura watched as the blood drained from Fenton's face. She grabbed his arm, her nails biting into his flesh even through the fabric of his shirt. "Joe was driving it," Fenton informed Collig. "He was going to see Sorrel."  
  
"Sorrel!" Collig exclaimed in shock. "Come to the station," he instructed, then hung up without waiting for a reply.  
  
"Call the school," Fenton ordered Laura. "Have them tell Frank to go to the police station now. Then stay here and wait. If Joe gets a chance, he'll call home."  
  
By the time Frank reached the police station, Fenton had already filled Collig in on Joe's connection to Sorrel. "So if Joe did break it off with Marie then it's possible Sorrel took the opportunity to have Joe eliminated." Collig saw Fenton's already pale face whiten even more. "I'm sorry Fenton," he apologized. "That's just one theory."  
  
"And one I've thought of many times since Friday," Frank said from the doorway. "But Sorrel wouldn't do his own dirty work. He would probably get Piers to do it. Sorrel did have Piers following Joe."  
  
"What's this?" Collig demanded. Frank explained. "It's a start," Collig said. "We can bring Piers in for questioning." He turned on his intercom and issued the order.  
  
It was almost two hours later before Frank and Fenton joined Collig in the interrogation room. "Why am I here?" Piers asked, his tone calm.  
  
"When is the last time you saw Joe Hardy?" Chief Collig asked.  
  
"Last night," Piers admitted, narrowing his eyes on Fenton and Frank. "Where is he?"  
  
"That's what we intend to find out," Collig declared.  
  
"No," Piers said, growing agitated. "Where is he? He said he wouldn't be going anywhere until after school. He's at school, right?"  
  
"Wrong," Fenton said, curious as to why Piers sounded afraid. "He went to see Sorrel this morning. He never returned."  
  
"He never got to Sorrel's either," Piers said, his face white. "It's my job to watch him. I let him get hurt yesterday. If anything happens to him....I'm dead."  
  
"Why is Sorrel protecting my son?" Fenton demanded.  
  
"Because Joe and Marie are getting along really well," Piers admitted.  
  
"But if something happened to Joe, wouldn't that get Sorrel off the hook with his daughter?" Frank inquired.  
  
"He's been encouraging them," Piers confessed. "He thinks having Joe in the family would keep you off our backs," he said, looking at Fenton.  
  
"So Sorrel knew it was Joe that Marie had gone out with Friday and stole the painting to get Joe to hang around?" Frank asked.  
  
"No," Piers denied. "He thought she had cut with some female friend. He never would have let her go off with a guy like that. And the boss didn't take the painting either. Matter of fact, he's already approached the Board of Directors with an offer, which they have accepted, once the painting has been returned."  
  
"Okay. If Sorrel didn't take the painting, then it's possible whoever did also kidnapped Joe. But why?" Frank asked. "Langley is our only other suspect. And Joe hasn't done anything to spook him that I can think of," he added, having forgotten about Joe's suspicion of Benson.  
  
"Ezra, can you get a search warrant for Langley's place?" Fenton asked. Chief Collig nodded. "Frank and I will head to the museum. If Langley doesn't have Joe at his place then maybe Benson will have some idea of where he might have taken him."  
  
After the two left, Piers looked at Collig. "Can I go now?" he asked. "Or am I being charged with something?"  
  
Chief Collig scowled. He wanted to detain Piers but he had nothing to hold him on. "You're free to go," he growled.  
  
Joe opened his eyes but quickly closed them again, wishing he hadn't. He moaned and tried to lift a hand to his throbbing head but his hands were tied behind his back.  
  
Joe's eyes fluttered open again and he took in his surroundings, ignoring the pain in his head every time his eyes moved. He was obviously in a basement. Benson's! Joe thought, remembering the ambush. He should have been more careful. Especially when he had suspected the man.  
  
Joe groaned and set about trying to free himself. Almost an hour later, he had managed to loosen the ropes enough to slip out of them. He got shakily to his feet, feeling the familiar sensation of stabbing pins as his circulation kicked back in.  
  
Unlocking the basement door was easy. He slipped the filed down nail file from the sock he kept it tucked in and had the door open in less than a minute.  
  
Keeping quiet he looked around the house. Sure enough, Benson was not around. Must be at work, Joe thought. Feeling confident, Joe started searching for the Renoir. He found it nestled in a shipping crate beneath Benson's bed.  
  
"Time to call the police," Joe said, rising from his kneeling position.  
  
"Actually, it's time to see the boss," Piers said from the doorway. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Twenty  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"Hello Frank," Benson greeted Frank as he looked at Fenton curiously.  
  
"Mr. Benson, I'd like you to meet my father, Fenton Hardy," Frank made the introductions.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Benson said, shaking Fenton's hand briefly. He looked at Frank a bit questioningly. "Isn't there school today?"  
  
"We have an emergency," Fenton explained. "Joe's missing."  
  
"Oh my!" Benson exclaimed. "I do hope nothing's happened to him."  
  
"We were wondering if you could tell us everything you know about Langley," Frank said.  
  
"Don't you mean Sorrel?" Benson parried. "I mean, he did take the Renoir."  
  
"Actually, we have reason to believe Langley took the painting," Frank said. "So he could collect the insurance money," he explained.  
  
"I...I see," Benson said. "That would be a motive. But when did he have the chance to take the painting? He wasn't here Friday."  
  
"An accomplice, maybe?" Fenton suggested, watching Benson's face closely.  
  
"Any idea who?" Benson inquired, trying to appear nonchalant but failing...or at least in Fenton's eyes.  
  
"One of the guards, most likely," Fenton replied, putting Benson at ease. "What can you tell us about Langley?" he asked.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know all that much about him," Benson answered. "I've only met him a few times and each of those times was here at the museum. I gave Frank his address that we have on file, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have."  
  
"I see," Fenton said. "In that case, we won't waste any more of your time," he added, ushering Frank out before he could say anything.  
  
"What's going on?" Frank demanded as his father pulled him to a stop in one of the museum's recesses.  
  
"I don't trust him," Fenton admitted.  
  
"Why..." Frank started to ask why not but he remembered what Joe had told him. "Joe didn't either," he said. "Benson was the only person with access to the painting that we didn't check out."  
  
"Why not?" Fenton asked curiously.  
  
"I thought Sorrel was behind the theft," Frank confessed, knowing he had blown it. "So I didn't look hard enough to find anyone else."  
  
Fenton grabbed Frank's arm to silence him as Benson passed their hiding place. "Let's find out what he's up to," Fenton suggested softly.  
  
The two followed Benson at a discrete distance to his office. "You do realize the security guard can see what we're up to," Frank told his father.  
  
Fenton nodded. "I know. But I'm hoping he will keep quiet for now. At least until we can find out for sure if Benson is involved in Joe's or the painting's disappearance."  
  
Frank was sure the guard would help out. After all, he could hear everything that was being said via the intercoms connected to the cameras.  
  
Fenton eased Benson's office door open just enough to listen. Benson was drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk but stopped when he started talking.  
  
"What took you so long?" Benson demanded, then waited for the person on the other end to speak.  
  
"Forget the kid," Benson growled. "His brother and father were here. Of course I didn't tell them anything!" he snapped angrily as the other person spoke.  
  
"Look, meet me at my place," Benson instructed the person on the other end of the phone. "We'll get rid of the painting and the kid at the same time." He paused for a minute. "No. We'll leave the body somewhere along the way. And yes, I'm sure the buyer won't ask any questions. I've dealt with him before."  
  
Fenton held Frank's arm tightly as he pulled the door shut. "That rat!" fumed Frank once they were out of earshot. "He has Joe and he's going to kill him if he hasn't already!"  
  
"No, he's not," Fenton corrected him sternly. "Come on, we'll follow him." The two exited the building and got into Fenton's car. It wasn't long before Benson emerged and climbed into a Mercedes.  
  
They followed him to a modest house on the outskirts of town. Fenton parked at the end of the street and watched Benson go inside. Fenton opened his door to exit but stopped as another car pulled to a stop in Benson's driveway.  
  
"That's Langley," Frank hissed. After Langley had gone inside, he and Fenton exited the car and hurried down the street and peered in the front window. There was no sign of anyone but muffled voices could be heard coming out of a second story window.  
  
The two Hardys entered the house and crept silently up the stairs. As they neared one of the open bedroom doors the words became distinguishable.  
  
"Ohhh...no," Benson denied. "You aren't laying this one on me. You're the one who got spooked when Joe stopped by your place while I was there. 'Get rid of him', you insisted. Well, I tried! And what do I have to show for it? A car with no back windshield locked in my sister's garage because I can't get it fixed now. I had to rent a car just to be able to get to work and back."  
  
"Well it was 'your' bright idea to follow them. You're the one who insisted on ambushing Joe when he took off on his own this morning," Langley retorted. "And what happened to 'Sorrel will be blamed for the theft'?" he demanded. "I thought you said he would kill the Hardys for us."  
  
"I don't know," Benson admitted, completely befuddled. "I left Sorrel's card in the room for the police to find. How was I supposed to know they wouldn't think it was him at the beginning?"  
  
"Ah, forget it!" Langley snarled. "Let's just go down to the basement, waste the kid and get rid of the evidence."  
  
"What did you think I was doing?" Benson demanded, getting on the floor. "The Renoir is under the bed." He bent over to reach for the crate beneath the bed but froze as the unmistakable sound of a cell phone rang from just outside the door.  
  
Langley rushed over and pulled the door open with his left hand. His right hand held a revolver which was now trained on Fenton. "Well now, why am I not surprised?" he asked.  
  
"The police will be here any minute," Frank said. "You might as well put the gun down and surrender."  
  
"He's right," Fenton agreed. "You don't want murder added to the charges you already face."  
  
"I can't be charged if no one knows I was the one who killed the Hardys," Langley replied calmly, lifting his gun and aiming it between Fenton's eyes. "Alive, you ruin everything," he continued. "But if you're dead, we can go on as planned," his words ended with the roar of a revolver being fired. 


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Part of the Family  
  
Chapter Twenty-One  
  
by hbwgonnabe  
  
"What are you doing here?" Joe asked as Piers entered the room followed by Maxwell.  
  
"Rescuing you," Piers replied. "The police and your old man are off to Langley's place so we came here."  
  
"How did you know Benson was involved?" Joe demanded.  
  
"Benson approached Cooper and suggested he might find the Renoir available on the black market," Piers said. "But the boss wants the painting on the up and up."  
  
Maxwell took the painting from the crate then closed the crate back up. He looked at Piers and gave a curt nod. "Let's go," Piers said.  
  
"To the police station," Joe said hopefully.  
  
Piers shook his head. "To the boss. You and the painting are going there."  
  
"But you said..." Joe began.  
  
"He'll probably let you return it," Piers tried to reassure Joe. "But my life is at stake here. After last night, you have to stay in one piece until I get other orders and with someone trying to kill you and Benson kidnapping you...well," Piers ended with a shake of his head. "You stay with me."  
  
Joe was escorted to the Sorrel estate where Marie, again, met him at the door. "Are you all right?" she demanded, seeing the bandage on his forehead.  
  
"He may need a doctor," Piers told Sorrel as he entered the foyer. "There's dry blood on the back of his head."  
  
"I'm all right," Joe insisted. "But I need to call my family."  
  
"Of course," Marie agreed at once. She took his hand and led him to the phone then left him alone as her father called her over.  
  
"Mom," Joe said when she answered.  
  
"Joseph! Thank God! I've been so worried. Where are you? Are you all right?" Laura fired off the questions.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe replied. "I was ambushed on my way to Marie's but I'm here now. Is Frank or dad there? I need to talk to them."  
  
"No," she answered. "The police were searching Langley's but your father and Fenton went to the museum."  
  
"Okay, thanks. I'll be home later," he promised, not giving her time to object, and hanging up. Then he called the museum and asked to speak to Mr. Benson. Upon being informed of his early departure, he hung up, and looked at Sorrel.  
  
"I have to call the police," he said.  
  
"Out of the question," Sorrel replied, not watching his words because he had sent Marie on an errand.  
  
"Then I have to go back to Benson's," Joe said, his mouth set in a stubborn line that all who knew him recognized as pointless to argue with.  
  
"It's too dangerous for you," Sorrel stated, with a firm shake of his head.  
  
"It doesn't matter," Joe said, his voice firm and head held high as he locked gazes with Sorrel. "My father and brother are there. I won't stand by and let them get killed."  
  
"You can't expect us to help you," Piers objected, scowling.  
  
"I never asked you to," Joe retorted.  
  
"You are going to go, even if it means taking us on, aren't you?" Sorrel asked, looking at Joe with respect.  
  
"They're my family," Joe replied simply.  
  
Joe, Sorrel, Piers and Maxwell arrived at Benson's home in record time. Sorrel held Joe back while his men scouted the area. "Benson and another man are on the second floor," Piers told Joe and Sorrel when he returned. "They are holding your father and brother at gunpoint."  
  
"Let's move in," Sorrel ordered.  
  
The four made their way inside. Joe watched in horror as Langley aimed the gun between his father's eyes. He could see Langley tighten his grip as he spoke.  
  
When the gunshot rang out, Joe was sure his father was dead. It took only seconds to realize Maxwell had shot Langley in the arm.  
  
Langley screamed and clutched his arm as blood began to pour. Benson leapt to his feet and ran for the door leading to the bathroom but froze in abject terror when he saw Sorrel standing there.  
  
"A little bird told me I was a suspect for a crime you committed," Sorrel said his voice soft and filled with menace.  
  
"D...don't kill me," begged Benson, falling to his knees.  
  
"Oh, it's your lucky day," Sorrel told him. "You're going to give the police a full confession instead."  
  
"But...but I'll go to prison," Benson declared, his eyes widening. Surely Sorrel understood!  
  
"Either prison or a grave," Sorrel retorted, then looked over to where Joe was having a happy reunion with his father and brother. "Well, Hardy, think you can handle things from here?" Sorrel asked Fenton with a smile then spoke to Joe without waiting for an answer. "I think perhaps you shouldn't see my Marie anymore," he told Joe. "Taking care of you is no problem. Rescuing your father, now that's something that's hard to live down."  
  
End 


End file.
